


if you could just forgive yourself

by littlemachines



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, based on but doesn't necessarily follow their revelations supports, how did i forget that tag, this is a long weird ass chara/rs study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemachines/pseuds/littlemachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I wasn’t at peace. There were other wars.”<br/>“Where?” Leo asked but he knew the answer.<br/>Takumi met his gaze. “In me.”</p>
</blockquote><br/>A truce, two princes and sixteen pieces on a chessboard.<br/>They weren't friends. An exploration of what they are.
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally the fic equivalent of 'what are we' i'm so sorry  
> this was originally meant to be a one shot but got too long so it's been split into three..... then four........ NOW FIVE parts ;; sorry if it doesn't read so great esp in the transitions but fingers crossed the actual content makes it worth it nervous_laughter.mp3  
> my european ass doesn't get fates til may so all ik is from halfwatched playthrus so there's no spoilers rly. the setting is deliberately vague uhhh garon's dead, there's a truce, it's set in leo's home @ nohr bc idk but they're still at war w faceless ig  
> title and lyrics from various storms & saints by florence & the machine  
> warnings!!! for references to abuse and homophobia so tread safely my friends  
> THIS IS DEDICATED TO CINDY THE YAOI EXPERT consider it like 2 fics worth of birthday gifts i owe u. love u friendo  
> enjoy!!!!

* * *

_too tempting not to touch / but even though it shocked you / something's electric in your blood_

* * *

“What are we?”

“Enemies.”

“Then we agree on something.”

*

They weren’t friends.

There was something uneasy about the word. _Friends_. Sometimes, still, it was hard to say. It got stuck in Leo’s throat, like a cough, and he would choke it out, flinching when a helping hand patted his back, harder than necessary because Takumi didn’t know that he was somewhat impressive in hand-to-hand strength, accustomed to the distance of a bow. For all his aversions to Nohrians, Takumi didn’t fear touching him. He didn’t flinch like Leo repressed. No, Takumi was afraid of monsters in the dark but those monsters were never shaped like humans, posing as people you loved, sitting at the head of the dinner table with a grip light enough on their goblet so it would only take a flick of their wrist for it to be thrown across the room, hard. The word _friend_ was hard to say but _family_ was harder.

They weren’t friends but they had a lot of common. At first, it had been irritating. No matter their brief first exchange in which they made an agreement in their intolerance for each other, they broke it, unintentionally. Where Leo stood, Takumi was beside him and the most infuriating part was how well it worked, how tactically clever Takumi was when he wasn’t hollering curses at Leo for stepping on his toes- _well, you’re the one who’s flouncing about_ \- and when the enemies went up in smoke, Takumi was on his tiptoes like he thought his hands curled into the front of Leo’s shirt could even out the imbalance between them. Leo would make himself bored, lips curled, head tilted, if only to pretend _Takumi_ _wasn’t getting under his skin_.

And Leo didn’t flinch then. He wasn’t afraid of an enemy’s attack. It wasn’t a surprise when someone who hated you hurt you.

Worse still (as if it could get any worse) was the reactions of their comrades around them. At first, Leo had been too focused on Takumi to even hear the giggles, the whistles lost to the wind and the blood rushing to his ears. It was only by the third time they had found each other at blows that they had been separated with Takumi’s lip bust and Leo’s ribs sore that Leo realised that no one stepped up sooner. No one ever did. He confronted his retainers on it and was met with Odin’s atrocious acting, his jolly whistling a way of avoiding answering. Niles simply laughed and asked his prince if he was sure his new _friend_ hadn’t hit him in the head because Leo was being surprisingly stupid today. The man was a blessing and a curse. They left the room with Niles last words an off-hand comment about the injury Leo inflicted in return, quite unlike him to get his hands bloody but _I’m sure a tiny cut won’t stop the Hoshidan Prince from working that mouth, eh, Prince Leo?_

And with the realisation came horror. Leo had almost chased after Niles, got as far as swinging out of his doorway only to bump into Camilla who had stepped back, seen the colour to his cheeks and then pointed… _in the direction of Takumi’s room_.

Leo had turned away with as much pride as he could muster and closed the door. He could still hear her giggling on the other side of it.

And with the horror came no end. At once, he noticed everything he had been missing. Sly comments, especially from but not limited to Niles, subtle shifts in formations from the dinner tables to the battle field and was it him or was Takumi being louder than normal? He was blissfully unaware of everything like the lucky fool he was, in perfect sight of Leo as they dined, sat between his retainers who were just as painfully loud. Leo had felt his jaw twitch and fingers flex, ready to throw something at the Hoshidan prince, if not a spell then at least a potato. Then he remembered the eyes on him and looked back at his table. Elise sat across him, swinging her legs, and when she smiled, elbow on the table and puffed cheek deflating against her propped up fist, Leo dropped his fork in his plate in defeat. Even his little sister was waggling her eyebrows at him. He had pocketed an apple and left to the refuge of his room. At least books didn’t look at him like they expected something.

The fourth time they had ended up in each other’s face at the end of a battle, Leo was all too aware of the sound of laughter, amused hollering and whistling that was a mix of Odin’s innocent trill and Niles’ suggestive catcall. Takumi was close, deaf to it, glare fierce. His lip was plump where Leo had hit him only a week ago. He hadn’t gone to a healer and Leo was surprised enough at this fact to not think.

And he said the wrong thing. “Like to wear your battle scars, do you?”

Takumi left a bruise on his jaw and in a similar fashion, Leo had let it go from purple to blue to green to yellow. Camilla’s smile was thinner when she saw it. Elise offered to heal it, cheery, not understanding what it meant. But in a roundabout way, Leo liked it, not the pain but the reclamation of deciding which pains he would heal and which ones he could choose not to, right under the roof of his own home. He thought he had won and that would be the end of it. He had healed. And yet Takumi continued to occupy his mind, a distraction that gave him something else to think about though he didn’t know he searched for it, a distraction that didn’t end like a book inevitably did.

Niles had only got a few words out before Leo had shook off a lewd comment about the state of his jaw. Perhaps confirming that his mouth was in working condition wasn’t the right thing to say. It seemed that these days Leo was always saying the wrong thing, thanks to Takumi.

The rumours grew and Takumi heard none of them.

It was frustrating. Takumi was all too easy to miscalculate and underestimate. His temper, his bad attitude and his inability to conceal both covered intelligence so brilliant that even Xander had been impressed. The pains of the ignored younger brother had come second to the sheer frustration of seeing Takumi offer genius plans whilst remaining ignorant to the teasing they had been subjected to.

Or rather, when they finally spoke to each other beyond tactical measures or curses, Takumi was simply a fool to the nature of it.

“What are we?” Leo asked, as he had the first time they had spoken to each other upon the agreement to a truce of indifference.

Takumi didn’t hesitate then, he didn’t hesitate now. “Rivals.”

“Not enemies?”

They were early to meet their brothers, armed with plans. Leo kept his close to his chest but Takumi, ever emotional, wasn’t good at holding back. Takumi’s eyes were brown but emotions passed through them like storms. Frustration and indignation a whirlwind so powerful Leo could have missed the flash of regret. Leo wasn’t the only one speaking thoughtlessly. “I wasn’t under the impression they meant two different things.”

Leo relished the upper hand. “If you read as many books as people say you do then surely you wouldn’t have to ask me that.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Takumi snapped before his tone took a mocking, mimicking turn. “And _surely_ you’re not one to listen to rumours.”

“Listening does not equate to believing. How many books have you read to finish despite their poor quality?”

Takumi’s eyes narrowed. “Why do the books I read matter so much to you?”

In a detached sort of way, Leo noticed that there were dark circles under Takumi’s eyes, signalling lack of rest. It appeared he didn’t trust his hosts, even in his sleep.

“They don’t.”

Leo’s simple answer made a muscle tic in Takumi’s jaw. “Enough of this senseless talk. There are more pressing matters than what you think will make a good bedtime story.”

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Leo said, lowering his voice.

“Yes,” Takumi responded impatiently, occupying his eyes with anything but Leo. “But do not flatter yourself, Prince Leo. We are nothing alike.”

Leo thought about the reason they kept fighting, the way they looked at their older brothers. Then he thought about Takumi not looking at him, not out of misplaced shyness or shame. He truly was a fool, ignorant to what it meant to be alike. Leo snorted. “That I know.”

Takumi turned on him. Shorter than Leo, he lacked the usual layers of clothes he wore as armour but still carried his bow as if he didn’t trust to leave it behind anywhere on Nohrian territory or rather, he presumed he would need it. That was likely to be the case. In just a shirt, Leo could see that he was as a disadvantage. Takumi was built stockier. Leo had heard that he trained in his free time, the sound of his retainers taking a friendly beating but without the sound of metal meeting. They didn’t spar but _tussled_.

“Are we done here?” Takumi demanded. It was a forceful question and the other’s gaze didn’t waver. Leo wondered if his own eyes had storms.

They were.

*

And they wouldn’t meet again until parallel lines broke out of formation, a supposedly rare event.

Perhaps it was the severity of their schedules or the uneasiness of rival kingdoms giving way to a necessary companionship but for some time, Leo and Takumi didn’t fight. The rumours calmed, Niles found someone new to bother and all that was left the occasional innocent comment on the similarities between the two young princes. Leo dismissed them and relished that he rarely had to look Takumi in the eye, only ever meeting in boardrooms with their brothers, trusting Takumi to fight for himself behind him on the battlefield.

He didn’t think about the implications of giving his back to a man who proclaimed himself an enemy, a rival. There were worse enemies in front of him.

And Leo loathed admitting it but he was bored.

At first, he didn’t understand. He took stairs two at a time, books in threes. When with others, he felt characteristically uneasy, pushing away Niles’ casual touches and shushing Odin’s declarations just the same. When alone, he felt uncharacteristically uneasy, restless for something he couldn’t put his finger on, looking for answers between volumes on history and philosophy. It was the sort of feeling that frustrated to no end when present but when gone, it was like it was never there. Maybe Niles was right that Leo wasn’t as sharp as usual. It took him too long to understand that Takumi somehow righted an unexpected wrongness, over maps and with the sound of an arrow sailing too close past his ear. Leo had stared at the Faceless he missed, out of his peripheral vision, just as Takumi was, but didn’t look back. He trusted Takumi to cover his ground and Leo worked harder to cover his own. With detached understanding, he accepted that the Hoshidan prince had saved his life. It overshadowed his own incompetence, the fury that a perfectionist directed towards the mirror. Even without seeing him, Takumi was always central to his line of sight.

If he was being truly honest with himself, Leo would admit that he only understood when they met alone again, too early to a meeting where they planned to impress their older siblings. Takumi stilled at the sight of him in the room, empty otherwise. Leo smirked, a practiced twitch of his lips. “Prince Takumi.”

“Prince Leo,” the other responded, terrible at hiding his suspicions.

“Now,” Leo said, in a tone he knew was the opposite of reassuring, “there’s no need to look at me like that. I’ve said no more than a few words.”

“Those few are quite enough,” Takumi said dryly.

Leo considered redacting what he planned to do but instead settled to sighing melodramatically. “I suppose that means you wouldn’t fancy a book full.”

Takumi was taken off guard and Leo used the opportunity to toss a book, previously settled over Xander’s papers detailing a vulnerable village to the west, at the other prince’s face with only the warning of, “Catch.” Takumi did.

He lowered the book to stare down at it for a long moment as if he expected it to be a trap. Sick of the silence like he had never been before, Leo said, “It won’t morph into a snake.”

Takumi glared at him but said nothing, surveying the spine for a title but finding it on the first yellowed page, the black ink of an illustrated bow and arrow still stark against it. When Takumi looked up, his gaze wasn’t suspicious. “Why are you giving me this?” He sounded confused.

Leo simply said, “You saved my life.”

Gods knew both of them didn’t measure a life for a dust drenched book but Takumi didn’t say it. Arrogantly (hopelessly), Leo didn’t expect him to understand but in Takumi’s eyes, there was no fog. For people like them, books had given them something immeasurably powerful to take to battle. Books had taught them words to live by.

They knew a book didn’t repay Takumi for Leo’s life but maybe the knowledge in it would save Takumi’s life one day.

They weren’t friends but in between the pages was an offer of a compromise without spoken words.

Leo wondered if Takumi had been as restless as him because when they came back, they came back swinging. They were maintaining a paranoid image, the jeers were louder, their fights extended to corridors, the dinner hall and every cut, every bruise, every pain made Leo smile. Takumi bit but Leo tore back. It got better, it got worse. They refused to see their younger sisters to heal their wounds. They were children, easily provoked. They were men, proud, and Leo became well acquainted with Takumi’s hands, clenched hard around the front of his shirt and open and careful as they cradled the books Leo _oh-so carelessly_ threw at him.

One night, Leo found himself thinking about them, Takumi’s hands. It was getting harder to sleep.

Niles had seen the bags under his eyes and raised an eyebrow. Leo shook his head, dismissing the comment before it came, and his retainer chuckled. _So what are you guys anyway? Friends?_

Takumi arrived to meetings early but Leo arrived earlier, a book always tucked to his side. And with Takumi, Leo rediscovered the pages he had forgotten, the stories he had grown bored of, reading the words in a whole new way.

_Friends?_

*

They weren’t friends but somewhere along the lines, between the books they shared, things became comfortable, easy. Too easy and if Leo knew anything, it was to fear the calm before the storm.

In the heat of summer, Leo forgot to. They had taken to eating outside, the Nohrians trailing after the Hoshidans who turned towards the light like sunflowers. Leo toed dandelions with the tip of his boot, a book on his lap, ill equipped for the warmth in black clothing but he had ridded his armour some time ago, leaning against the tree as he was, savouring the shade. He couldn’t ever remember the kingdom being this light. It made him forget they were in the middle of a war. It made him confuse who his enemies were.

Takumi had dropped beside him without a word (a surprise in itself) and by the time Leo’s squint allowed him to recognise the Hoshidan prince, others had already followed his lead, sitting down with plates piled of food, talking between mouthfuls. It could have been like Leo wasn’t even there had it not been for Takumi who nudged him, half a loaf in his hand. Leo had been so busy wiping sweat off his forehead as discreetly as possible he had forgotten to get his own lunch or rather postponed it for later, with the promise of privacy. Pride made him want to reject but then his stomach grumbled and he wondered if it was warm enough to blame the sun for the flush rising up his neck. Takumi snorted at Leo’s body betraying itself and pressed the loaf insistently into his hands. Leo took it.

Their trades were not limited to books. The exchange did not go unnoticed but Leo pretended to not see the look directed his way by Camilla, who was basking like a cat in the sunlight. Soon enough, Hinata battling an insect distracted him well enough. He didn’t look at Takumi but rather felt him shake a little with silent laughter. It was too hot out but in the pit of Leo’s stomach, he felt warmth.

Nonetheless, the heat had been unforgiving and Leo trudged back into the coolness of the castle as soon as lunch came to an end. He heard Takumi follow and led them to the nearest room that wasn’t occupied, holding his breath. They had talked books in the neutral ground of the boardroom but never had they met outside of it, only taunting in passing, until today.

A game of trades. Takumi had surrounded him at lunch and now, Leo opened an empty room and let Takumi in.

Leo knew the vast kingdom, from the villages and towns beyond the walls to the gardens just outside and the interior castle halls he called his own. He knew it like the back of his hand and he knew the room they entered now (though, in a home as big as this, he couldn’t recall if he had ever been in before.) It was wholly identical to the many rooms that paralleled it all over the castle, a study with a desk, a quill, ink and parchment stored away in it and general books that wouldn’t interest him or his guest but he wasn’t here for them anyway. Leo led the way to a table shrouded by a sheet. The curtains were half drawn but there was enough light for them to see but not enough to hurt Leo’s eyes. He hoped Takumi wouldn’t protest and Takumi didn’t, instead closing the door behind him silently. Leo would have said _cat got your tongue?_ had his own not been caught.

The only sound was the ripple of fabric as Leo lifted the sheet, airing the dust where it caught in the slim ray of light that crossed the chessboard, favouring the black pieces to the white. Leo righted the king and then turned towards the other prince. Takumi stood so the sunlight caught half of his face, blinding one eye, the other golden but unreadable. Leo gestured at the chessboard, free from the dust that aged everything else in the room, and asked, “Fancy a game, Prince Takumi?”

Joining the books and the lunches, Leo taught Takumi chess. Leo still called them trades, though logically it made little sense to view their exchanges as such. If Leo gave in books and Takumi in meals then the chessboard was equal ground, the new boardroom with the pieces their very own armies to lead.

Takumi, as intelligent as he was, lost often and swore that he would beat Leo in shogi. He laughed when Leo mispronounced it. It didn’t matter if they lost or won here, not because it wasn’t real anyway but because somewhere between books and hours of each other’s company, they had stopped being rivals.

So they weren’t enemies and their meetings weren’t trades but what they were neither claimed to know. They were at war, often preoccupied with jobs of leading tactically or advising their brothers, and their lives didn’t stop between the hours of their exchanges.

That didn’t mean Leo didn’t think about it.

It had taken Leo more time to get used to the casual touches that occurred between friends. Takumi was far less careful with concepts of personal space – all the Hoshidans appeared to be. One lunch time, he had watched Hinata sling his arm over his prince like it was nothing, like being friends destroyed every school of belief between a man and his royal liege. But what was a touch between two princes?

As lax as Takumi appeared in his authority, Hinata and Oboro were loyal to a fault and watched their prince leave with Leo every day with attentive eyes, not all too kind in the case of the latter. Only orders appeared to keep Oboro from launching herself after them. Or perhaps that was the friendship between them. Over time, it had begun to feel strange to refer to them as Takumi’s retainers but _friends_ was harder.

It had taken Leo even longer to get used to Takumi touching him. The first time Takumi had bumped his shoulder, Leo had braced himself for a touch harder and instead had received an odd look from the other prince, looking back at where Leo had frozen in the path. _What? Did you forget something?_

 _No_ , Leo wanted to say. _I realised something_. But that meant saying what they had become and it was easier to decode the language of touch than to speak of what it meant.

The next time Takumi bumped their shoulders, Leo bumped his own back and Takumi laughed at whatever they had been talking about. Leo couldn’t remember what. The touch, the laugh – a soft chuckle, unused and surprised – had felt like the day in the sun, a flush at the back of Leo’s neck and warm in his stomach.

Soon, Leo had learnt the art of friendly touches and the kingdom grew used to the sight of them pushing each other through the corridors, insulting each other lightly, but had yet to know about the quiet meetings with hands brushing elbows as Leo led the way, Takumi still unaccustomed with the darkness of the hallways and terrible at directions.

An instance found them arguing about the kingdoms’ code of conduct at the table with animated hand gestures, after watching Effie devour a table of food. _Including the table_ , Takumi joked and Leo rolled his eyes at the exaggeration, recalling how Takumi had broken out in sweat when watching the soldier have her dinner, awe and fear as plain as day on his face.

“I did _not_ look like that,” Takumi argued, pulling a face in response to Leo’s impersonation.

Leo just snorted, turning to open the door to the study as he said, “Believe me, that was exactly your expre- huh.”

Takumi’s voice was close behind him. “What is it?”

“The door.” Leo jangled the handle so the futile sound of a lock echoed the hallway. “Someone locked it.”

“Using magic?”

“No,” Leo said dryly, “using a key.”

Takumi didn’t sound impressed. “Then what’s the problem? Break in?”

“Do you use your arrow to pick locks like a common thief too?”

Suddenly, Takumi moved to stand with his front pressed to Leo’s side, the difference in their heights all the more prominent so close. It had been a while since they had any reason to meet face to face, Takumi’s expression an argument, mouth pursed and chin tilted up so their gazes met with surprising evenness. “Move.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue until Takumi put his hand on the door handle and he stilled, unable to do anything. Leo couldn’t remember an instance before this where skin met, not without the memory of violence. Now Takumi’s hand was over his, brushing it away, and after a second, Leo complied robotically. He stepped back and watched as Takumi put some force behind his touch, the shoulder that met Leo’s just mere moments before now shoving against the door.

The door opened with a concerning creak but Takumi looked smug, gesturing at the handle that was still thankfully intact. Leo stared at him in question. Takumi shrugged. “Everything in these particular rooms is ancient. I just guessed the locks were too. It was just stiff.” _Much like the rest of the castle_ was left unsaid. _You have no idea_ , Leo’s still body would say.

“Remind me to have new ones installed,” Leo murmured.

Takumi didn’t take offence, not waiting for Leo to push past but entering the room first. Leo watched him march over to the chessboard, sitting himself down with familiarity. Their last game lay in wait, unfinished. They had gotten distracted discussing the philosophy behind kingship and the role of the queen, debating with a passion that had sent a knight flying. Leo closed the door and retrieved the missing piece from where it had rolled under the desk chair. He didn’t need to survey how Takumi reset the board. They had played together enough times that he had faith in Takumi.

The game transpired as normal until a non-descript move of Leo’s, midway through. He noticed Takumi staring and looked up from the game board, chin still balanced in his hand and expression half-in half-out of thought. “What?”

Takumi blinked when he realised he had been caught and stumbled over his words. “I just noticed something – earlier. Your skin is… really soft.” Leo was lucky that his hands propped him up. He stared back at the other prince, unblinking. Takumi kept talking. “Well, it looks soft- on your face, that is. I haven’t touched your face.”

Leo relaxed faster than he thought he would, faced with Takumi’s oblivious blunders. “Do you hear yourself speak? _I haven’t touched your face_.”

“I meant I’ve touched your hands and they’re soft!” Takumi flushed now, embarrassed. “Gods, your impersonations are awful.”

“You’re awful.” But Leo didn’t mean it, smiling, and for weeks, he hadn’t understood the warmth inside him until now, spreading in time with Takumi’s blush. He didn’t have time to catch the thought before it got out of hand and out of hand it did. He was enamoured – with the scattered chess pieces, the light filtering between unevenly closed curtains and the endearing sight of pink across Takumi’s cheekbones.

And the thought couldn’t hurt him here, between friendly touches and questions like _best two out of three?_ It was a secret, like the nature of these meetings and the sound of Takumi’s laugh. It was Leo’s alone.

*

They weren’t friends but-

The thought could hurt Leo when he was alone.

Under normal circumstances, he had an ordered system. When Leo found it difficult to sleep, he worked. When he was too tired to work, he would read. When he was unable to keep his eyes open, he slept. But some night had become tosses and turns of endless restlessness, like and utterly unlike that of which he experienced during the brief hiatus of his and Takumi’s confrontations. Now he struggled to sleep, too exhausted to do anymore work but every book had begun to remind him of Takumi, his thoughts never straying too far from the other prince. Some nights, Leo found he didn’t mind, setting aside books to give to him when they would next meet.

Other nights, he longed for sleep so he could stop thinking, so he wouldn’t have to face the implications, _the consequences_ of what he had done. Other nights, Leo felt alone, vulnerable without his armour, unarmed without a book. On these nights, Leo would curl up, unable to remember what he was punishing himself for. He made a mantra, chanting even as he choked, they were friends ( _we aren’t_ ) they were only friends ( _no we’re not_ ) because these days, _friends_ was better than what they had become. But it wasn’t enough when he was alone and he was left to face a monster morphing into the shape of the man Leo had no choice but to look up to when he felt so very small.

On these nights, Leo could still hear his voice, low, deep in his chest, like a hand curled around his heart as he said that he was disappointed, he expected better from his brilliant son, so intelligent with the brain but so weak, so pathetic with his heart. Leo still remembered the first time he had stared too hard at another man – _another boy_ , he desperately corrected himself, another boy just as he had been a boy himself – and he remembered it as the first time the man he loved more than any other had raised a hand against him.

Feelings were beaten out of him to mould him into not only a soldier, a prince but his father’s son.

On these nights, Leo slept between instances of panic seizing him, squeezing his neck when awake and smothering his chest when he was asleep.

Leo woke cold but sweat drenched like the summer days he rose to. He washed and dressed, agreeing with his sisters that he really ought not to stay up so late studying, knowing it showed on his face. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he saw Takumi, a way away but close enough that Leo could see the way the skin at the corner of his eyes folded gently as he smiled in greeting. When Takumi took his breath away, Leo taught himself to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jokastes)   
>  [tumblr](http://www.akingdomorthis.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine if i updated my actual multichap project this fast , Wow .. anyway the reason i'm so fast is because this part was already written (part 3 however....)  
> for references sake when i was thinking of what takumi wore in training it kinda bottled down to [this art](https://twitter.com/minato_jd/status/659924714043805696)  
> also thank you so much for the lovely comments and the kudos!!! i haven't written for a fandom so fast and responsive in a while so it's been a real pick-me-up and i appreciate every kind word ♡  
> hope you all enjoy!!!

* * *

_you sing it out loud, "who made us this way?" / i know you're bleeding, but you'll be okay_

* * *

 

They weren’t friends because _what friend felt like this?_

Leo had nothing to compare Takumi to. His siblings? He cared for them deeply but it was odd to describe them as anything other than family. His retainers? _Ha._ Though he supposed if he had to give his relationship between his two closest soldiers, it would be… _friendship_ (albeit a bizarre one that he knew he was to blame for getting himself into but he didn’t regret it, not quite – not yet anyway.)

What he had with Takumi was unlike anything else. They met regularly, rarely diverging from the activities that had always been their own but now they shared them and it had yet to become boring. It was Leo’s favourite part of the day and from Takumi’s careful manoeuvring to avoid his retainers’ strategically planned training times, it appeared to be Takumi’s too. Leo watched Takumi argue with _his friends_ and he didn’t realise he was smiling until Takumi joined his side and made a soft humming sound.

“What?”

Takumi smiled. “Nothing. I was just thinking that you have two different smiles.”

“Excuse me?”

Takumi nudged him gently, laughing. “Don’t take such offense, Prince Leo. I just mean you have that smirk that looks like you practice it in front of your mirror, customised with your cape-”

“I’m taking offense,” Leo said, too deliberately mild not to be dangerous.

“-but then you have this one smile,” Takumi continued, unfazed. “Like you’re-”

“Amused by the antics of you and your barbarian friends?” Leo supplied.

Takumi nudged him, harder this time. “ _Happy_.”

“You’re wrong,” Leo said, with such seriousness that Takumi looked crestfallen. “I practice both smiles in front of the mirror wearing my cape.”

Takumi pushed him and Leo thanked the opportunity to turn his head away, long enough to fight the second smile. As they went into the room they occupied, Leo spoke again. “I think _happy_ would be the wrong state of mind one would associate with a soldier in the middle of war.”

“I was talking of the feeling, not the mind-set, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Takumi said. “But I still think you’re wrong.”

“No one is surprised,” Leo muttered.

Takumi tossed the black queen piece at him, too hard to be a simple pass. Leo glared at him until he spoke again. “I’m surprised to hear you think happiness as such. Are you not concerned with the greater good involved in war?”

“The greater good is a situational concern.”

Takumi squinted at him. “Is war not for the greater good?”

“I mean,” Leo corrected himself, “setting national pride aside, there is no happiness in war. It’s a necessity and the happiness from it is simply the illusion of what comes at the end of war.”

“And what is that illusion?”

“Peace.” Takumi didn’t speak. Leo carried on. “One can only find happiness in peace. Believe me, I’ve lived my entire life under the wars of my father. I felt happiness as an emotion but…”

“But?”

Leo hesitated, still. Then he admitted, “If I had to live through war again, I couldn’t promise I would do as I have now.”

Takumi didn’t speak for a long while and they began their game. A few turns passed. “Maybe we were going about this entirely wrong.”

Leo raised an eyebrow in question. Takumi explained, “I’ve lived in peace and it was torn apart by war but the peace wasn’t… I don’t think it made me happy. Or rather, I wasn’t at peace. There were others wars.”

“Where?” Leo asked but he knew the answer.

Takumi met his gaze. “In me.”

They ended their debate there, not sure what they were fighting for anymore. The game continued and Takumi won. They didn’t laugh about it as they would have. Something about their discussion had made them quieter, more careful around each other, leaving the room with bare touches.

It was meant to be serene. It should have been serene. But if Leo knew anything, it was to fear the calm before the storm even if you were the storm. Especially if you were the storm.

They were to separate at a stairwell, Takumi going down to meet his retainers to train and Leo to keep walking, heading to his room or to see Xander and work until dinner. Takumi didn’t step down, knowing the difference in height between them was severe enough as it was, but deliberated. Leo knew something needed to be said but his tongue was heavy as it often became. Takumi stared at him for a long moment then, “You said earlier you didn’t think you would have made the same decisions if you had to relive this life.”

It wasn’t a question. Leo corrected him, naturally. “I don’t think my soul would have allowed me the privilege of living at all.”

The castle was quiet, in this part.

“I think,” Takumi said, “if I were to relive this war again, I would try to be with you sooner.”

Leo thought of how he knew only two hands with perfect recognition. Takumi’s and his own father’s. All the practiced composure, all the careful actions fell apart under a single flinch.

Takumi noticed. He had said something, confessed something and the only answer he got was Leo recoiling like he was repulsed ( _hurt_ ), like he was objecting, rejecting ( _terrified Gods he was so scared_.) They had opened up to each other with other people’s words, in small victories and losses on a chequered board, and Takumi had given Leo himself in a promise that Leo broke, still scared of demons now dead.

It was a mistake and Leo knew it. He knew what he wanted to say, _maybe I could live for you_ but then Takumi turned away and the demons weren’t dead enough that they didn’t sit in his throat, choking him. Maybe he was lucky that they no longer poisoned his tongue.

Leo watched Takumi descend the stairs and out of sight. Maybe he gave the demons too much credit. The only thing that was choking him was himself.

Leo hadn’t felt the bitter sting of tears at the back of his eyes and the base of his throat since his father had died. It was awfully fitting.

*

They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything.

Their meetings stopped. It was, like most horrible things were, unsaid and ugly in public and all Leo could do was put on his usual face until he was alone. The chessboard gathered dust. _Other nights_ became every night, unable to sleep but seeing demons in the fires warming his room. He blew out candles and curled up in cold sheets. He wished everyone didn’t assume he was working himself to death. He wished Camilla would come to check up on him or Xander would say something when he noticed Leo’s sleepless eyes over maps and plans. He wished for things he hadn’t wished since he was a child.

And he wished for Takumi.

From how little they saw each other, it was not a one-sided effort to stay out of the other’s way. Leo took to eating lunch with his brother, discussing strategies until they got sick of the sound of each other’s voices and ate in admittedly companionable silence. He only knew Takumi forwent lunch when he heard Hinata complaining about the shift of his timetabling, telling Oboro that he would follow Takumi to the ends of the earth, _he would_ , but damn did he wish he didn’t have to train with his prince when he was supposed to having lunch. Oboro told him to stop grumbling and their voices faded down the hall.

It was by chance that they crossed paths. Leo had been told Camilla was seeing to her weapons and an obvious shortcut was the grounds in which the soldiers took to training, sparring and the like. Leo avoided it generally, his powers better practiced away from a crowd and the exposure of direct sunlight, but he wasn’t unfamiliar to it, having trained in elementary swordsmanship with Xander and hand-to-hand combat with Jakob on the grounds now thriving with soldiers. If he ever found himself there, he strayed to the sidelines, watching his comrades struggle, mind concerned with analysis, assessing each soldier and mentally tucking away the information to discuss with Xander later. _Did Effie’s lunch menu get cut? She burnt up far faster this week than last. Laslow is looking rather sluggish on mornings too. Are you keeping him up filing your paperwork, Brother? Cease. He’s a good soldier, you shouldn’t overwork him to the point of breaking_.

Often, Odin and Niles stood with him, each preferring to practice their arts with a measure of privacy – or rather, for the safety of the general public. Xander had requested they put a good distance between themselves and any other living breathing creature before they decided to hone their abilities.

Leo spotted Niles now, chatting easily with Silas who was red in the face (from either pushing himself too hard or Niles’ topic of conversation but it was likely a mix of both) but didn’t make his way over. He was more concerned with reporting to Camilla that Elise was leading Sakura into her bedroom to try on all of Camilla’s _fancy adult clothes_. It was out of general kindness on his older sister’s part and petty retaliation on his younger’s sister’s. Elise had recently drawn in one of his notebooks, a mixture of scribbles of other people – featuring a tiny Takumi next to an even tinier Leo which was inaccurate and comical but still made Leo close the book straight after – and music notes that would have been worthy of admiration had they not been _in his book_. After Leo was done, he intended to go back to his room and ask someone to send his dinner in when the sun was comfortably set, working overtime to fill the holes in Xander’s plans.

It had been over a fortnight since he had stood at the stairway with Takumi and Leo’s days were getting bearable if not better, even if his nights tormented him. In a strange way, it motivated him. He was no stranger to pain and the repression of it. The sooner they won the war, the sooner the truce of brothers in arms could cease and the Hoshidans could leave their home. The sooner Leo could pretend that there was nothing that could endanger his soul more than another man.

Leo had stood at the sidelines of the training grounds to steel his gaze, to see the men as pieces on a chessboard, statistics in ink. It was too easy to stare too hard watching soldiers train. Here, he had practiced self-restraint.

Turning away from those training, Leo continued his journey to finding his sister, walking swiftly towards the weapons room. There were voices inside, laughter he identified as his sister’s, and Leo began to speak before he had even entered. “Camilla, Elise has taken Lady Sukara into your room to…”

He trailed off upon gathering the attention of all those in the room, an amateur verbal blunder. Before he could right himself, Camilla dropped an axe (Hinoka dodged at the nick of time) and said in wide-eyed horror, “My clothes!”

Leo’s job here was done. Camilla shoved past him, the oldest Hoshidan princess right behind her, each concerned with their own little sister though Hinoka looked to be hoping to shield Sakura when Camilla unleashed her wrath on Elise. A smart move though Leo wished they had given him the opportunity to finish his sentence, to lead the way, to get him _anywhere but here_.

Takumi wouldn’t look at him.

Leo had only caught glimpses of him from afar and had forgotten just how beautiful the other prince was. The layers of traditional Hoshidan clothing had been peeled away to leave garb more appropriate for training, one sleeve of his undershirt off, the blue cloth crossing his torso but leaving skin exposed. With Takumi’s back to him, Leo could stare for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of bare skin and the shape of shoulder muscles, the back of his neck with his long hair gathered into a bun. The longing Leo thought he had overcome from the distance between them returned with full intensity, no longer mere warmth in his stomach but something kindred to fire.

He had hesitated too long and now he couldn’t leave. Neither spoke and Leo surveyed the weapons room. Takumi, surprisingly, stood at the swords, his back to the bows. Leo watched as he stared down at them but his hand was short of touching as if the metal could pass a current into him.

Leo had become as careless as he had been when they first met. “They don’t bite.”

Takumi didn’t jump at the sound of his voice but Leo saw how his back muscles stiffened. His voice was quiet when he spoke, another surprise. “They’re weapons. Have you never been cut by one? Of course they’re capable of hurt. It’s what they do.”

“I disagree.”

Takumi snorted. It wasn’t laughter, it wasn’t kind but Leo missed the sound. “Of course you do.”

Leo walked further into the room. “They cut more than just skin. You could not have a book without a blade capable of sawing down a tree and making paper from it.”

“Are trees not living things?”

“My, Prince Takumi, when did you become so concerned with the grass we walk on?”

Takumi turned his head and Leo could see half of an immovable expression but that was all, the other prince’s gaze low so Leo couldn’t even see the colour of his eyes, let alone what storms brewed in them. “I don’t take joy from pulling flowers from the ground, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It isn’t.”

Leo knew he was saying the wrong things. Metals were not the only things forged into weapons. It was easier to inflict pain than to say _I missed you, you’re beautiful, I’m sorry_.

But there was something about the tension in the room that could be cut with one of the swords Takumi refused to touch. They had stumbled back in time to when their first trades had been tests. Leo had pushed because with Takumi he couldn’t help himself, because he wanted to see if Takumi could keep up. They were philosophes and deadly curious. _It’s what they do._

Leo pushed now. “You’re afraid.”

“And what?” Takumi was defiant as he used to be. When he turned to fully face Leo, there was a look of the condescending pride in his posture, on his face, in his eyes. Leo could have hated him. He wished he did. “Are you going to use it against me?”

 _Because you can do that. Because that’s all you can do_.

This was Takumi’s way of retaliating.

And Leo looked back at him, knowing he mirrored the other man as he always did except where Takumi’s mouth tilted down in a scowl, Leo’s tilted up. Easy. He pushed, knowing Takumi would push back. They weren’t friends but sworn blood-bound, star-crossed enemies. No amount of treaties, no number of handshakes could change that. _No books, no shared lunches, no brilliance shared with someone who understood, truly, what it meant to be a prodigy with the skin of your teeth_.

“Spar with me,” Leo said.

That was all it took. A challenge. Takumi picked up the sword with a grip so tight that the skin of his knuckles bleached white.

They found a spot on the training ground that was not occupied, on the outskirts and far from their fellow comrades training and laughing in the light of the afternoon sun. It shone stubbornly through the clouds but a wind unsettled Leo’s cape so he had removed it. Neither of them wore armour.

Leo had picked a sword he was familiar with, a heavy silver weapon that had not been kind when he began his training, a strain on his arms unused to wielding anything other than a book, but he had grown stronger with time, with practice. He held it for some time for it had been a good while since he had played with a sword, lacking the time to throw it at a weapon he only knew in case his mind and magic failed him. His weapon’s power excelled where he couldn’t, powerful in its own right. Takumi had picked a weapon a little lighter than his own and didn’t look strained by it. Leo watched the muscles of his arms as he swung the sword experimentally.

When they clashed, they met as equals.

It was like playing chess. They separated, sizing the other up, measuring the steps they had cost each other. It didn’t matter what their weapons were. Every move was calculated. This wasn’t their medium but everything was a trade of parries, swings, misses and clashes. It was a test. They weren’t trying to be good swordsmen. They were trying to be intelligent opponents. Whenever they fought, they did so in their very own way.

After some time, it became evident that the sword wasn’t entirely a stranger to Takumi but strange enough. Anyone could see that Leo held his sword with more confidence, uncomfortable simply because it was not his preferred method of fighting. He treated it like it was another chore, like learning an instrument or making small talk with guests more concerned with his title than they were with him. Like killing in the name of his father. Like teaching himself to look at men like soldiers and soldiers alone, expendable and breakable.

Like but unlike. Leo couldn’t detach himself entirely. His mask of indifference slipped at one too many close-calls. Leo had the heavier weapon but Takumi had the strength behind his own, the weight of his archer arm costing Leo a few stumbles that tipped the scales. Leo’s agility saved him by a hair inch and his foresight met Takumi’s head on as they stood across from each other, panting.

Nonetheless, it was Leo’s side of the chessboard that appeared to be favoured by the Gods. He backed Takumi closer to the trees at the outskirts, an imaginary line that created the edge of their court. Leo was close to winning, focusing on footwork to trip Takumi up but Takumi surprised him (as he often did), meeting Leo’s blade with the full force of his body, feet rooted into the grass.

Leo made the mistake of meeting Takumi’s gaze. There was a tornado in Takumi’s eyes. Leo sprung back and righted himself.

A moment and then they met again and Leo couldn’t decipher what was louder, the sound of metal hitting metal or their own sharp breaths.

Leo was not one to put his emotions into a battle, certainly not a training session dedicated to simple sparring. But it was a game of trades and every time Takumi hit, Leo had to hit back harder. He couldn’t say why. Takumi had something to lose and Leo simply wanted to win.

Perhaps that was what allowed Takumi to take Leo’s king piece.

They were breathing heavily, close, close enough that Takumi’s sword was comfortably poised, cold metal against his jaw. Any harder and there would be blood. Any faster and-

Takumi dropped his blade.

Leo’s muscles retracted with the fallen blade, the agony of waiting for a blow that never came. He hadn’t realised he was holding himself as such until Takumi looked at him with eyes that said _are you mad?_ Leo grinned as if he was, his sword arm hanging as Takumi forfeited his own.

Leo spoke first. “Giving up already?”

“What is this?” Takumi asked. Eyes wide. No storms, just the chaos they left behind.

A breath short of a laugh, incredulous. “A sword fight?”

“No.”

There wasn’t understanding in Takumi’s eyes. They were similar, they had grown up intelligent but at war, with everyone, with their siblings, with themselves, but they had different storms brewing inside them. Where Takumi had his mother and father taken away with a desire to blame, Leo had a father who had died long before he became ashes. Takumi provoked blows, Leo steeled himself against them. Until Takumi.

Leo’s voice was too breathless for the words to come out easy. “Was this not a game? I thought we were playing.”

“You’re lying.” Takumi frowned and Leo realised with a jolt that he had grown accustomed to gentleness in Takumi’s features. A smile. A laugh, even, sometimes. He wasn’t laughing now. “You stopped fighting.”

Takumi was never good at hiding his hurt. Leo was never good with him, like this. “Then you should have finished me off.”

Takumi’s glare was harsh. “You don’t fight someone who can’t fight back. Even if it’s someone who chooses not to fight back.”

Leo couldn’t tell why he was provoking Takumi. Maybe he wanted the blow to come, maybe he wanted to be hurt because punishing himself wasn’t enough. Maybe he wanted Takumi to give him reasons to flinch so he could learn to fight back. Hands against hands, thoughtless and instinctual. “Ever the honourable, aren’t you, Prince Takumi?”

It should have made Takumi angry, made him pick up his sword and demand a real rematch. It should have provoked that oh-so predictable temper and Leo would fight him like he had when they were still enemies, when they weren’t-

Takumi raised his voice. “Do you _really_ think that I’d-” and then he cut himself off violently.

It took Leo a moment to realise why. He was back at the stairway again. He was in his bed at night when the flames of the candle flickered and he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. He was facing an apparition of his father and he had never come into his room before but _Father, please, I’m sorry, Father, it won’t happen again, I swear-_

Takumi got his answer. Leo had flinched. He wasn’t afraid of an enemy’s attack. It wasn’t a surprise when someone who hated you hurt you.

But Takumi was no longer an enemy.

Throughout their spar, throughout what had become an unlikely friendship, with Takumi, Leo fought back. He hadn’t been afraid of getting hurt, hadn’t thought about it until his body did so unconsciously, bracing itself against attacks that he had only ever known to be one part caress and two part violence. It was a complicated way of thinking, acting, living. Wanting to be loved, waiting to be hurt, all by the same hand.

Maybe Leo was tired of fighting with his mind and the ghost of his father.

There wasn’t understanding but Leo knew the look on Takumi’s face, every word a question and every look yearning for an answer. Leo was a puzzle to crack, a code to break. He was a book with a broken spine that forced itself upright until gentle hands held it and it collapsed on itself, pages and pages of philosophy disordered to the point of no understanding.

But Takumi was trying. He was like Leo, painfully so. When faced with something beyond their comprehension, all they wanted was to understand.

And it pained them to not understand. If they were at war with themselves then not understanding was as good as losing.

“Leo,” Takumi said and it sounded strange and wonderful without the title ahead of it. “What is this?”

Leo didn’t make the same mistake, say the same words twice. His blood was still buzzing with a battle between fight or flight. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and connect him to his body once again. Strangely, he felt some sense of release from even just the tiniest flinch. He didn’t give his body enough credit. It protected him, no matter what. It wasn’t his body’s fault that it shouldn’t need protecting in the first place.

“Of all the times in battle…” Takumi stepped closer, hesitantly. “You’re afraid.”

Leo had said those words to him.

Louder, Takumi demanded answers. “Why now? Why are you so afraid now?”

Finally, Leo found words. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not afraid, certainly not of you and your poor swordsmanship.”

But his voice trembled. Just slightly but it was enough. Leo hated it, the illusion of order falling apart but he was usually better than this, only able to count the instances on one hand. When Leo hadn’t cried at their father’s death and Xander had told him that he was _proud_ , when Camilla reminded him that _this_ was why they didn’t coddle him, that he was _brave_ and _strong_ , not without them but _one of them_. He was tactical, smart, ruled by his head and his book. A man with unprompted diligence, a mind removed from its heart.

They wouldn’t know he cried briefly after, alone, head hung over a book as if he was merely reading. When tears smudged the ink on the page, he tore the pages out and threw them into the fire. Seeing the book was incomplete, he destroyed it, selfishly letting his magic flare like the grief in his chest, the anger warming a heart that had been cold for so long.

They would know that he had watched, detached, as his body rejected Takumi’s confession but they wouldn’t know of how it felt to come back into his own body like a stranger, to feel trapped whether he felt too much or felt too little. They wouldn’t know of the smashed pieces on a chessboard and how he _ached_ to feel whole. When his father took his heart, he had broken Leo’s body too.

And Takumi was a hunter. He knew what a broken creature looked when he raised his bow to aim an arrow at it. He looked at Leo like he was wounded animal and Leo wished he could tell him to get on with it, retrieve his bow, he didn’t need to come so close. Leo hadn’t given up, his mind never did, but his chest had gone taunt, his arms went limp. His body knew he would lose, his heart vulnerable to Takumi, and his mind could not override them both.

Takumi said, “I won.” It was a pointed statement, the tip of an arrow always poised and ready to fire.

The words were automatic. “Your weapon is on the ground.”

“And yours hangs at your side as you waited for me to slice your neck. You thought I would.”

 _You’re right_. “Maybe I realised the flaws in trusting the prince from an enemy kingdom.”

“Then” – without blades between them, Takumi was as close as he could be without touching – “you should have raised your arm. You should have took advantage of my…”

“Your mistake,” Leo said coolly.

The Hoshidan prince winced. “Yes.”

Leo didn’t say anything. A trade. Leo’s mistake for Takumi’s.

“I thought…” Takumi was close enough he had to tilt his head up and his hands trembled, unable touch Leo. He was like a sword that Takumi couldn’t pick up, another weapon too volatile in its capabilities.

Leo made a scoffing sound. He felt faraway, adrenaline dying. “What? That we were _friends_? Then you’re a mighty fool, Prince Takumi.”

“No.” Takumi shook his head as if the word wasn’t enough. “You’re trying to hurt me.”

Some distance away, cheers went up. Someone had made a heady victory sparring. Leo could have been with them. “Weren’t you?” he said.

“It’s not easy for you to trust nor is it easy for me,” Takumi said. His voice wavered as his fingers shook, as if he knew Leo had slipped from his grasps but he wanted to hold on, letting go of the hilt of his sword with palms drenched in sweat only to grasp at the air where Leo once stood. And away from it all, Leo could think, _ha_ , it was comical that Takumi didn’t see what everyone saw in them, flushed and shaking, stubborn and desperate.

Leo tried not to look at him but Takumi demanded it when he said, “Let me give you a truth.”

“Truths are harder to trade than books,” Leo said.

“Then give me nothing.” Takumi acted as though it was simple. Maybe it was and Leo was the one overcomplicating everything, reading too into the lines when they had never been on the same page. Friendships were easy, days of lazing under the sun and relaxed games where it didn’t matter who won or who lost.

Takumi took a deep breath and spoke his truth, eyes clear and the sun in Leo’s. “You were right. I was afraid.”

 _Was._ Leo stepped back. Takumi let him.

“I gave up on swords long ago. When I was younger, I thought… I thought I had to meet my older brother and sister in everything they did. I trained to. I wanted to excel in every possible way. I wanted to be as good of a sword master as Ryoma but…” Takumi laughed. It was always a surprising sound, as if he had not expected to laugh himself. His head felt light but his chest tightened at the sight of Takumi’s smile. It hurt but he didn’t mind. “But he beat me. Of course he did. So I gave up on it. I guess I don’t mind now. It was… fun today, I suppose. And I have grown to love the bow.” And then Takumi frowned, faraway in his thought. Leo braced himself for another confession but Takumi just said, simply, “I hope Hinata hasn’t decided to play with it while I’m away.”

Leo realised only now that, some time ago, Takumi had stopped carrying his bow. Things had changed.

Leo wasn’t the only one who was volatile. He didn’t say anything until Takumi looked at him expectedly. “Were you hoping your touching story would wake similar sentiments in me?”

A knee-jerk response but Takumi smiled, just a little, as quiet as his laugh. He looked lighter, as if the truth took a weight off his back. “No. I know you understand.”

The tightness in his chest had begun to unravel under trembling but familiar hands. “I’m not afraid of swords.”

“I meant about being the middle brother.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “You think I pine for the attention of my sister and brother as you do?”

“Yes.” Takumi’s smile was a little smug now. They could have been playing chess. They could have been debating over a book. Leo’s body was no longer distant but light. Takumi anchored it.

“And what makes you think that?”

Takumi was too close again. “It’s right there.”

Leo couldn’t move. “Where?”

“People look at your mouth when it’s right in your eyes.”

A moment. A moment where Leo could make Takumi look at his mouth. A moment where he would win beyond measure because _you think you’re so smart_ _yet you don’t know what they say of us, what I think of you_. A moment where he could show the other prince that there were things worse than being friends with your enemies. A moment and Leo did nothing, only stared back.

He had his own skies of emotions but Takumi couldn’t read them, not quite. It’s why Takumi frowned when they locked gazes, eyebrows furrowing, tongue tied by confusion. The Hoshidan prince had no reason to hold back his emotions, to let the clouds cry. Leo had been keeping his feelings in the dark for so long, he wondered if the sun angled towards his face had given away too much. Not enough but too much.

“Pick up your sword, Prince Takumi.”

Some terrible, terrible things were taught. It wasn’t always about teaching yourself new things when all that did was cover the dirt of buried bones with flowers only to walk over them, snapping stalks, severing spines. It was about unlearning the terrible, terrible things until flowers grew between the cracks of the bones, filling them until it no longer hurt to move on and live.

They fought until Leo didn’t flinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/reaperapologist)   
>  [tumblr](http://www.akingdomorthis.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazzhands* hello again all  
> sorry for the wait but here it is, part three WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE LAST PART but i, as always, severely underestimated how much gay i can write so y'all can look forward to another part sometime in the next few days. am i subconsciously writing more yaoi so i don't have to do my homework? YOU BETCHA  
> ANYWAY as always thank you for the kudos/comments/reading y'all are the real mvps ♡  
> ENJOY!!!

* * *

_but you had to have him, and so you did / some things you let go in order to live_

* * *

They were friends.

They talked, they stood in front of tactical maps and argued until compromise, surprising their brothers on days where they found peaceful agreement. When summer passed and autumn cooled, they ate lunch at the same table inside, across from each other. Sometimes, Takumi met his eyes, rolled his own whilst Oboro and Hinata fought over food and it was an inside joke in the middle of a crowded room. Sometimes, they still left early to play chess and Takumi often led the way, familiar with the castle or at least the parts they often occupied. Leo was glad because it meant Takumi walked ahead, headstrong and unhearing of the murmurs behind them, unable to see how Leo’s ears burned or catch him glare at Niles for making a suggestive gesture at their departure. Other times, they went straight to their brothers as villages fell around them. Often, no one got to finish lunch, called out to battle. Effie was in the worst moods those days.

They trained together. Takumi had explained how the _Fujin Yumi_ worked, demonstrated with somewhat shy commentary and yelped when Niles called out rudely (both in content and in action.) The arrow missed its target, only just slightly which was impressive but Leo could understand how a tiny mistake would cost a man like Takumi. Leo told Niles if he was that enthusiastic to join them, he would have to help them train. They needed a new target anyway. That got rid of him.

In return, Leo let watch him train with _Brynhildr_ , often getting distracted by diverging topics on magic and the history of it between Nohr and Hoshido. When on one instance Takumi said he would fetch Orochi to compare their arts, Leo told himself he only reminded Takumi that Orochi made a habit of making a fool out of him at the expense of no one as a joke. Yet he was relieved when Takumi took heed in his warning, paling considerably and returning to sit beside Leo. But no one else needed to know that.

It was only when they sparred that they could not escape their fellow comrades. They made efforts to remain far from others but as their swordsmanship excelled, more of their comrades stopped to watch, interested to see how the two princes channelled their once bitter rivalry into their training. For the most part, it was usually their retainers, Niles and Odin far more than Hinata and Oboro until Hinata and Odin made an unsurprising (and loud) friendship that was too ridiculous for Oboro to stomach. Niles was hardly any better but luckily, he got easily distracted by anyone flushed and sweating on the field. Leo, used to his retainer’s terrible mouth, smiled challengingly whenever Takumi flushed at the lewd proclamations. Takumi would glare back but it didn’t lessen the pink to his cheeks.

One sparring session they thought they were lucky enough to be left alone and took advantage of it, throwing themselves into outwitting each other. They had taken to talking as they sparred, yelling over the sound of metal cutting sky, compliments about footwork and introspection on strategy. _Best five out of seven?_

They had been so concerned with each other that they didn’t hear the approach nor notice the presence of their brothers at the sidelines. It was only when Takumi had moved out of Leo’s line of vision that he spotted the crown princes, watching them with their rare but genuine smiles.

Leo tilted his chin in their direction and Takumi followed his gaze. Leo watched his reaction carefully but didn’t find much to change. If Takumi was embarrassed, Leo couldn’t see past the flush to his skin from sparring. They sheathed their swords and made their way over.

The two older brothers were talking animatedly when they drew nearer.

“My brother naturally excels in anything he does,” Xander said, pride to his words.

Leo rolled his eyes. Only Takumi caught the act and smiled behind a hand, using it to conceal how out of breath he was still, visible in the winter air like tendrils of smoke.

Ryoma laughed, hearty and unruffled. He clapped Xander on the back, well-meaning. “As does mine. I always knew Takumi had the potential to be a great swordsman-”

“That’s not what we’re trying to do,” Takumi interrupted loudly.

Both crown princes turned, as if they themselves hadn’t noticed their younger brothers watching them as they had been watched earlier. Leo dropped gracelessly atop a tree stump, sitting back with a false air of amusement when in reality, he was using the opportunity to catch his breath. He didn’t question Takumi’s use of _we_.

“Is it not?” Xander asked, tone mild. “And pray tell, Prince Takumi, what the two of you are hoping to achieve?”

“Fun, Brother,” Leo answered for Takumi. He was grinning. “You should try it sometime.”

None of them spoke for a moment then Ryoma looked at Xander and said, “I agree.”

Xander didn’t waste any time. “Retrieve your sword, Prince Ryoma.”

“Gladly.”

The younger princes watched their brothers retreat to find their weapons, arguing all the way like children. Then Takumi and Leo looked at each other before Takumi sniggered and Leo snorted.

“Were we that bad?” Takumi said when his laughter subsided, half serious.

“Oh, you, definitely,” Leo teased.

Takumi lowered his voice in imitation. “Pick up your sword, Prince Leo.”

“And you call _my_ impersonations awful.”

When Takumi extended his hand, Leo took it. The winter sun was mercilessly cold but Leo still felt warm.

Most days, they met by chance but no less regular. Leo didn’t have the heart to point out how suspicious it looked for Takumi to pull Leo into an unoccupied room as he passed through a hallway, engrossed in his notes. Those days, they conferred over what they’d previously discussed in meetings with their brothers until they exhausted themselves, lying down on open books. But some days, sometimes, they simply debated weakly, talking about the philosophy of anything and everything else but the war at their doors. When it got late, when the days got difficult, it didn’t need to be substantial. It was intelligent but childish, hypothesis starring their comrades, their siblings. Their friends. Each other.

Leo could sleep better. The days were so long, so full, that he didn’t have to think for so long before sleep succumbed him. As the nights got colder, he let the candle at his bedside burn and watched the shape of the flame blur into colours, like a tiny sun in his room.

It was the brief interludes before waking and sleeping that Leo let his body, mind and heart argue tiredly. Often, he thought of Takumi, how exhausted the other prince looked, how in mornings Leo learnt to hold his tongue until Takumi could find his footing and come back swinging with a tongue as sharp as the blades they handled, simply for fun.

Those nights (it was always those nights), Leo would wish, secretly, that he could be made allowances. He wanted to ask Takumi what kept him up at night. He wanted to offer his own company on the nights he was restless too. Then his body protested against stubborn, awake organs and he would welcome sleep, knowing he couldn’t wish for more than what they had.

Still, disruptions to routine bothered Leo. When one rainy evening, Leo couldn’t find Takumi in the dinner hall, too proud to ask, he decided to search the other prince out himself. Wandering the hallways, he heard little of anyone but his younger sister until a thought occurred. _Surely_ Elise couldn’t be talking to herself.

Leo followed the sound and was met by his own bedroom door. He swung it open to the peculiar sight of Takumi in his room, perched on the edge of his bed warily as though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be in here but was unable to argue with one of his hosts. And Elise was a demanding host, speaking a mile a minute, legs swinging where she sat beside the Hoshidan prince.

Leo watched as Elise tried to convince Takumi to play with her, a suggestion in her tone that she had asked before and been rejected. Predictably, Takumi was somewhat awkward around Elise, unsure how to sidestep around her request without hurting her feelings. It seemed Takumi was only good at rejection when it was thoughtless, yelled out in a fit of anger. Since the truce, Takumi had no reason to blindly hate the Nohrians. He was left to awkwardly stumble through their codes of politeness.

Leo felt something that could only be described as fondness. Takumi had started to feel familiar, like a book read so many times you could quote passages, the edges frayed and every page thumbed devotedly. Leo felt it in his chest, laughter like the songs of a bird trapped in his ribcage, equal parts beautiful and sad. He wondered how long it would take until he could open up and laugh.

“Elise,” Leo said suddenly, startling even himself out of his own thoughts. He stepped into clear view in his own room. Takumi stilled at the intrusion. Leo didn’t look at him but instead at his younger sister who turned slowly to give Leo her best innocent smile. “Care to explain what you’re doing in my room?”

“Takumi got lost trying to find you” – behind Elise, Takumi was shaking his head quickly but stilled soon enough for Elise to miss the action when she looked back at him, _lucky for him_ – “so I helped him! Right to you too! If you ask me, I deserve a thank you for my efforts.”

“Of course,” Leo said, moving towards the bed at a leisurely pace. “You’re right.”

Elise folded her arms across her chest, pleased to win any argument. She looked at him with her cheeks puffed smugly. Leo stood for a moment in front of her, as if deliberating her prize, then reached out slowly to grab her by the collar and pull her up. She was light enough that it wasn’t a particularly difficult task to drag her out of the room, even though she struggled between insults, insisting that Takumi didn’t want to hang out with someone so _mean_ and _stupid_ anyway- _goodbye, Elise._

They heard her yell from behind the closed door and Leo locked it for good measure. He waited until he heard her trudge away, defeated, calling for Xander though she didn’t sound tearful and Leo breathed out in relief.

Of course, getting rid of his little sister only solved half of the problem.

When he turned back towards his guest, he found Takumi smirking, amused. “You didn’t tell me you were jealous of your younger sister too?”

Takumi didn’t realise what his joke implied. Leo rolled his eyes. “I was doing you a favour. You looked pained.”

“She’s not that bad,” Takumi argued but he laughed. “It’s okay, Prince Leo. You can say you want me all for yourself.”

“I really can’t,” Leo muttered to himself.

Takumi didn’t hear. “What was it you just said?”

Leo prayed his retainers wouldn’t decide to drop before they went to bed. His patience today was not one to be tested. “Nothing.”

Old habits did die hard. Takumi narrowed his eyes but didn’t press the matter. He looked more comfortable now Leo was here though Leo doubted that had to do with Elise’s chatter and more with his little sister breaking unspoken rules. During every single of their meetings, Leo had never brought Takumi back to his room, even when he thought longingly of books on his desk as they conversed in one of the many identical and empty study rooms they usually occupied.

But now Leo didn’t usher him out of the room. Rather, he sat down beside Takumi, reaching for the book on his bedside table he had been reading himself into sleep for the past few days.

“A new bedtime story?” Takumi asked, gesturing at the book on Leo’s lap.

And it didn’t matter that they were in _Leo’s room_ and Takumi was on _his bed_ because this was familiar now, like the swing of a blade coming in. He didn’t blink, not wanting to miss a moment of Takumi, each passing with a page, a book an hour, a library an evening. In the low light of the bedroom, there weren’t storms in Takumi’s eyes but worlds, the earth shaking and erupting into new ones they discovered together as they read, they created together as they spoke. Pioneers. And when night settled outside Leo’s window and the moon caught grey hair and sleepy eyes, Leo saw a universe, all its stars and infinite possibilities.

“It’s late,” Leo said eventually, unable to hide the reluctance in his tone but he knew his own gaze flitted to the dark circles under Takumi’s eyes. Leo had thought it was Takumi’s distrust for Nohrians that had made him sleepless but now he sat with his rival, his enemy ( _his friend_ ) until late hours without batting an eyelash. And yet he still looked exhausted.

Nodding slowly, hesitating himself, Takumi finally said, “I should…”

“I’ll…” Leo trailed off just as lamely and stood up to disguise it. He didn’t look at Takumi for long, chest heavy at the sight of Takumi leaning back on his elbows, head tilted so his hair fell into his eyes that were tired but not unhappy. _Familiar. Friends_. Leo swallowed and tried again, eyes on the door. “I’ll go see there’s no one in the hallway to, uh, bother you.”

Takumi hummed in answer.

Leo found the hallways blissfully empty, straining his ear but if he couldn’t hear Odin then he was surely too far away to be a threat and Niles, hopefully, with him. He turned back to his bed, Takumi’s name already out of his mouth before he realised-

Takumi had fallen asleep.

Moving back to the bed once again, Leo held his breath. He didn’t think the sound would wake Takumi who had somehow managed to fall asleep in the awkward position he had been lounging in, on his side, head lolling on his elbow. His hair covered most of his face and Leo resisted the urge to tuck it back, to see Takumi’s face so peaceful in the candlelight, to think _I’ll make a joke when he awakens, how he is much prettier- no, far more enjoyable company when he is asleep, sucking his thumb or snoring,_ though Takumi did neither.

Then Leo was stuck, unsure of what to do. Takumi was in _his room_ , asleep on _his bed_ , books open around him and papers crumpling under his limbs. A reasonable voice told Leo to wake Takumi, to help him back to his own room if he must, but for a while now Leo hadn’t been listening to reason.

Instead, he pretended this was no different to the times when Elise had fallen asleep when stubbornly trying to stay awake with her older siblings. Xander, Camilla and Leo would take turns carrying her to bed. Leo remembered when Elise was young enough to fit into his arms, snuggling sleepily into his neck despite his murmurs to tell her to stop, her hair tickled. Since she had deemed herself old enough to fight in the war, she had gotten better at keeping herself awake but Leo sometimes caught her eyelashes fluttering at the dinner table, tottering dangerously close to collapsing face-first into her soup. Though, Leo supposed, he didn’t think that was entirely a child thing. It was a war thing.

Leo cleared the bed, awkward but at least not entirely hopeless at this sort of domestic task. Luckily, Takumi was simply dressed. The thought of having to remove anything of Takumi’s made him flush in both longing and shame. Leo worked as quietly as he could but it probably didn’t matter. Takumi didn’t wake, even when Leo struggled to peel back his bed covers to cover them over the other prince properly. Leo had to remind himself that it was a testimony to how tired Takumi truly was and not like the sort of trust exercise Hoshidans had introduced to their training regimes. Why it could not be both was a matter of cutting down senseless hope before it blossomed, twining around the bars of the cage in his chest. _You’ll die in there with no sunlight_ , Leo thought. But the bird sang when Takumi mumbled something in his sleep, the only word decipherable being _checkmate_ , and the warmth inside Leo could have been the sun. There was life within him.

When he was done, Leo stepped back and looked at Takumi, fate kind to Leo as the light jostles of movement on Leo’s part had resulted in Takumi’s head tilting, hair spreading on Leo’s pillow. One urge ended, another desire formed. Leo knew Takumi’s comfort was just an excuse to free his hair from its ties and ribbons.

He turned away, distracting himself with the practical task of undressing, self-conscious even when he was well aware that Takumi was out dead. Leo took his time and maybe it wasn’t about Takumi seeing him. It was about Leo seeing Takumi. It always had been.

Finally, he stood at the side of his bed, deliberating like a child. He had no choice now. He couldn’t sleep anywhere else. He couldn’t wake Takumi. For someone so supposedly quick-witted, Leo sure took his time only to make ridiculously stupid decisions.

Peeling back the covers once more, Leo settled into his bed, much smaller now another person was in it though Leo knew it would feel too large, too empty from every night onwards. Takumi remained obliviously asleep as Leo waited, eyes closed for a long and short time before he felt brave enough to open them and face the flame. He blew out the candle at his bedside, wishing away thoughts of his past with it, if only just for tonight.

He laid back, stiff to the point of aching, but the darkness helped. He had grown up in it, hid in it, excelled in it. In the darkness, he could pretend he wasn’t in his own bed in the home that was not free entirely from memories of his father. In the darkness, he could turn and stare at Takumi, measuring his heartbeat with the rise and fall of the gently outline of Takumi’s chest. He could barely make out his features but he knew him, knew his face and hands and eyes, even though they were closed now. In the darkness, Leo could make a new mantra as he asked himself: if Takumi did struggle to fall asleep in enemy territory, what did that make Leo? _Friends friends friends_. Maybe if he chanted it enough, counted wyverns to it, it would become easier to say.

To the sound, the regular rhythm of Takumi’s breathing, Leo fell asleep.

*

Leo woke to pain.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. He had long become acquainted with the ache of training, the throbbing of a mind unrested after reading into late hours. More embarrassing still was falling asleep with a book to your face and sometime during the night, a shift caused the paper to cut you.

He had never woken in pain due to his father’s blows. He had been raised to heal them fast, mouth tight. Physical pain was a rarity. It was his soul that suffered the worst.

Another instance of pain, a jab of it in his torso. Leo hadn’t woken up _in_ pain. Something had hit him.

Instantly, his mind was awake, his hand grasping for the bedside table to prop himself up, to separate himself from whatever it was that was _thrashing against him_ , to gather his wits and retaliate until he remembered, realised-

Takumi. The pain was coming from Takumi. Takumi was _hitting him_.

The only explanation he could find in the dark that Takumi had drawn the same conclusion, that there was an intruder in his room, that he had forgotten that this was _Leo’s room_. Leo opened his mouth to identify himself in the dark, to give them both the comfort of a reminder, then Takumi made a low sound, without words.

A groan. Leo was the one who was getting hit and Takumi was the one who sounded hurt.

It was dark, one of the darkest nights Leo had ever woken up into, but he could just about see that Takumi’s eyes were still closed. He trembled, every part of him, but Leo felt more than saw that, vibrations passing from him to where Leo laid, so very near. The groans were low in his throat like a dying animal in pain, head tossing and turning as his body fought to resist, the sounds he made straining as a result. Then without warning, Takumi lost whatever battle he was fighting. He squirmed wildly, hands raised as if to defend himself, hitting something invisible

Except Leo was real. The next time Takumi’s arm moved, Leo dodged it, knowing better than grabbing it. All those times learning to grow used to the feeling of Takumi’s touch only to be faced now with senseless violence. But Leo should have known better than anyone else that when a mind was at war, a simple touch could not bring peace. Sometimes, it was the blade that cut the deepest.

So Leo spoke, levelling his voice. “You’re dreaming, Takumi. Wake up.”

Takumi gave no sign he heard. His eyes remained squeezed shut as he struggled desperately against something that threatened to be stronger than them both.

But Leo wouldn’t allow it. He waited until the fit passed and, as if by routine, Takumi went still. Leaning in, he could _feel_ more than see Takumi trembling, the air heavy. He spoke again, louder though a whisper could have been loud in the dark like this. “Takumi. Are you hearing me? It’s Leo.”

Takumi whimpered, a sound as pained as it was terrified, and Leo interpreted it as a response. He was at least getting past the walls of Takumi’s unconsciousness. Shifting closer, he continued to speak, low and firm, diminishing ghost stories with a tone that scorned them. “What you’re seeing isn’t real. You’re safe. See through it and open your eyes.”

It appeared to be working. Takumi was still, stiff, breathing laboured but that was all that discerned any distress. All Leo needed to do was hold it there. He wanted to hold him.

Leo said words out loud in the cover of the night that he was too afraid of saying in the glaring light of the day. “Takumi, can I take your hand?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a warning. Slowly, Leo reached out to touch Takumi, his knuckles grazing rumpled sheets to find Takumi’s fingers. When Takumi flinched, Leo was ready to retract his hand and he wondered if this was how Takumi felt watching him. Helpless. A simple touch could not bring peace, Leo _knew_ that-

But then Takumi grasped his hand.

It wasn’t a kind grip. Takumi was clutching his fingers like one might when needing assistance off a height, posture polite, except he held so tight, Leo wondered if Takumi’s dream landscape was a clifftop. Leo knew Takumi’s hands, the roughness at the tip of his fingertips from drawing back his bow now digging into Leo’s until Leo did all he could think to do with a hanging man. He forced Takumi’s fingers to extend, open up and their palms to press together before solidifying their grip, lacing their fingertips. Then Leo _pulled_.

Takumi fell against him. He was shuddering against Leo, violent and painful, both familiar and entirely not. Leo let him, taking it. He had hurt worse in this bed.

Each breath was ragged, sounding like it was torn out of Takumi’s chest, his throat. They were so close that Leo felt every single one scorching hot against the skin of his neck. In between the tangle of limbs, Leo found Takumi’s other hand and cradled both. He said nothing, understanding Takumi had awoken when each breath hitched a note higher. Then in the solid heat between their bodies, there were drops of coldness. Light rain. Takumi was crying and it was as though the bird that had made it’s nest in Leo’s ribs, once safe, had escaped from his chest. Leo was holding a bird with clipped wings, fighting for its life.

They were the same in the ways they were different. Leo longed to sleep but Takumi was terrified of it. Leo wondered what it was like to dream of war only to wake up in it. He had been wrong. Leo didn’t think anything had ever hurt more. It hurt more than anything else in the world.

Takumi’s forehead was against his shoulder, Leo’s nightshirt slipping so sweat soaked into his skin. Between them, their clasped hands made an uncomfortable prayer. Takumi raised his head again slowly as if it pained him. Whatever edge Takumi had stood on in his dreams, he had woken to the world on his shoulders. Leo held it up with him now and _Gods_ , he had never wanted more to be good enough, not even at the heels of his older brother and sister or the foot of his father’s throne.

When Takumi’s forehead pressed against his own, Leo shivered, just short of a flinch. He was cold even though he felt hot, dangerously so. Takumi’s breath was against his mouth, as uneven as the pulse that beat against the back of Leo’s hands.

They were a fever. They were sick. No Gods would save them now and Takumi warmed Leo’s mouth with his own.

The kiss was thoughtless and Leo didn’t need to think. They forgot to pray, Takumi’s hands letting go of Leo’s to clutch at his shirt like he had so many times before and Leo’s unable to decide, down at Takumi’s waist and then up to his shoulders before parting ways, one shy at his hip and the other settling behind Takumi’s neck and threading into the nightmare-tangled hair there. No Gods needed to save them now. They breathed life into each other.

A simple touch could not bring peace but this wasn’t simple. Their mouths opened, inexperienced but desperate. Leo’s lips were hard and Takumi’s tongue wet. It was like bruising fruit. Takumi tasted faintly of the tangerines he had eaten hours before. It could have been days.

Leo pulled lightly on Takumi’s hair and they separated to breathe as they did when they sparred before meeting again, heavy and heady. The hands at Leo’s chest dragged themselves upwards, disturbing Leo’s nightshirt further off his shoulders as Takumi’s hands settled there, nails digging into bare skin. Leo’s hand at Takumi’s waist aimed to steady it, to root them into the ground as Takumi had once, digging his heels into the grass. But there was no ground and they were laid on their side, facing each other with eyes closed. Takumi’s teeth caught Leo’s lip – accidentally but Leo’s breath still stuttered, blood rushing. His skin was cold but he was burning inside, low in his belly, flaring with every touch. Now, when Takumi’s breaths hitched upwards, it was just shy of a moan. There was fire in Leo’s veins.

The dark was a privilege. No one would know. It made everything a secret. Bruises didn’t stand out against black. Leo couldn’t see Takumi, couldn’t see the gentle quivers of his eyelashes as his gaze fluttered, couldn’t see the exact shade of colour to his cheeks. The moon wasn’t in sight and only the feel of Takumi’s hair reminded Leo of spun silk, the quality that of silver. The dark was a privilege, a cover, a hiding place, a bad place. In the dark, Leo couldn’t see if Takumi looked at him like he looked at Takumi. They were blind.

Only in the morning light would Leo feel shame and Leo was sick of feeling ashamed.

He wished he could be brave. He wished he could light a candle and not fear his father’s presence in the room. He wished he didn’t have to be brave. He wished he could kiss Takumi now, let this dream carry him to sleep. Leo wished it could be simple, that Takumi touching him could bring him peace. Takumi had dreamt horrors but this was Leo’s, legs tangled with another man yet unable to face him.

When they separated to breathe, Takumi didn’t lean back, instead kissing down Leo’s jaw, mouth wet and clumsy but Leo burned, still. He wished for a lot of things but Leo knew he wasn’t brave enough to stop this. He could only wish it would be good enough to call what they had brave, whether it was to himself in the dark of a new moon or the whole world in the light of the midday sun.

Leo stopped wishing and Takumi stopped moving, suddenly. There was silence. They could have kidded themselves they weren’t in the room at all.

Takumi laid his face against Leo’s neck, warm, cheek pressed to Leo’s shoulder once more. His hair tickled bare skin but Leo didn’t mind, their bodies slotting together comfortably now. No prayer, no heat. The fires had extinguished themselves and neither of them were ruined.

They laid in silence and waited. Leo wasn’t the only one who had to relearn how to breathe again. They found root on the bed, legs tangled and sweat-drenched skin sticking. It was a relief to not be alone.

By the time Leo felt a single, lonely raindrop against his neck, stark cold against flushed skin, Takumi was asleep again. Leo traced spells onto his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jokastes)   
>  [tumblr](http://www.akingdomorthis.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh hello we hit 200 kudos at some point and i'm still in awe who are you people please let me personally write a love letter to each and every one of you  
> anyway sorry for the delay i really did not anticipate for this fic to get so..... out of hand. it was meant to be a one shot. it was not meant to be this LONG. but lucky for y'all (maybe? hopefully?) IT IS long. i've upped the chapter count yet again so it'll be five chapters and the fifth (the last one!!!!! i swear!!!!!!) is Where The Magic Happens so forgive me for the lack of action in this chapter (though somehow it ended up being the longest one yet) (i love this family so much)  
> anyway enough babbling from me thank you again for all the support *blows kisses in every direction*  
> aaaand enjoy!!!!

* * *

_the monument of a memory / you tear it down in your head_

* * *

 

They were they weren’t they were they weren’t what were they-

Leo jolted awake like coming out of a nightmare and his first thought was _Takumi_.

The bed was empty except for himself. Leo would have thought last night had been a dream but the sheets to his side were rumpled, chaotically. Leo slept like the dead. Takumi had been there, had tossed and turned like a wild animal in his sleep, had woken and kissed Leo with everything he had.

And now he was gone.

Leo had never felt so disorientated and it took him a moment to gather himself, to remember to breathe without thinking of Takumi (because the thought of the other prince just had his heart hammering, his breath heavy.) Only then did Leo realise he wasn’t alone in his room after all.

Odin stood near the door, posing as always. Niles had, upon Leo’s awakening, approached the bed. He smirked like a well-fed cat, extending his hand but Leo rejected it with what he hoped to be an undecipherable look. Niles’ grin widened as Leo sat up, allowing the sound of rumpled sheets to echo for a moment before inclining his head and asking, so typical of him, “You decent under there, milord?”

Odin spoke, now posing with added flair. Leo felt tired just looking at him. “Fear not for I, the great Odin Dark, will do everything in my power to protect our lord from anything or anyone that threatens his nightly exchanges with-”

Niles and Odin weren’t threats but suddenly their comments were. It hadn’t mattered when it wasn’t true. It had been a joke, open but ridiculous, but now it felt like a wound, exposed, the result of rumours spreading like a virus and Leo had hurt himself listening to them. He thought of nights with his head between his knees, spinning. He thought of the fever of last night. He had made himself sick. He always had.

“That’s enough.” Leo felt undressed even though he wasn’t. His nightshirt was on his shoulders but Niles was looking at his mouth. Could one tell that Leo had been kissed? He had never been kissed before Takumi. “Is there any reason why you’re both in my bedchambers at…”

“Midday,” Odin supplied, helpfully Leo could admit. “It is but mere moments before the sun is highest in the sky and the clutches of darkness are weakest upon my soul-”

Leo addressed Niles instead, letting Odin ramble on in the background. “Any reason why you’re in my bedchambers at midday?”

Often, Leo was surprised at Niles’ ability to terrify with his smile alone. It was useful in battle, as unsettling as the words he spoke. Now, it made Leo realise that if there had to be anyone in this castle he should have known would see through whatever game of hiding, of acting Leo was playing, it would be Niles – even with one eye.

Niles’ smile was a blade, teeth sharp and his words cut. “We heard a ruckus.”

“A ruckus,” Leo repeated.

“Indeed,” Odin said, tuning back into normal conversation. “It-”

“Please explain this as swiftly as possible,” Leo interrupted before Odin could launch into another soliloquy.

Niles cast the other retainer an amused look then watched as Leo pushed aside the sheets, eyes following their movements to the side of the bed Takumi had occupied only mere hours ago. Then answered, “Prince Takumi appeared to be in a great hurry in the hallways. He bumped into poor Mozu. Spilled all her vegetables. A pity.” Niles didn’t sound sympathetic.

It was easier if Leo was faraway, unrooted. He spoke with a detached tone. “And that concerns me in any way how?”

Niles could see through Leo, perhaps, but he was at a disadvantage. When living in the dark, your eyes adjusted to it but being with Takumi had been light. Niles wasn’t looking at the same thing, the same _Leo_ anymore. Nothing entirely dark, nothing entirely light. But it was in the dim candlelit nights that Leo felt the heaviest.

Niles was still smiling but less terribly. “We heard the commotion, Odin and I, and feared the worst. The youngest Hoshidan prince always harboured strong feelings against you.”

He taunted, provoked, dared Leo to refute the claim. Leo simply raised an eyebrow. “It appears the only thing hurt in all of this was Mozu’s vegetables and your stomachs for losing out on lunch. Is that all?”

“Do you not care for the cause of Prince Takumi’s distress?” Niles prompted.

“Why should I?”

A moment. Odin was staring between his prince and his fellow retainer and was silent, for once.

Finally, Niles said, “You’re friends, aren’t you?”

 _Friends_.

Leo could have laughed but it would have felt like forcing a bird to sing with your hands wrapped around its neck. Was he the bird or the hands? Was he choking? Was he strangling?

“If you are looking to preach a conscious to anyone for the trouble this morning,” Leo said slowly, rising to stand, “I think you’ll find Takumi’s room down the hall.”

Neither retainer spoke. They understood the command. Niles nodded again, smile a small cut. Leo was the weapon. “Yes, milord.”

They left.

Leo could have collapsed out of relief. His voice had been detached, his acting immaculate, but he looked down at his hands and saw them shaking. His whole body was, unlike itself. He remembered holding Takumi’s and he hugged himself now. It was as though Takumi had passed on his tremors, like a disease and this was the symptom. They were sick. They had made themselves sick.

Alone, awake, the memory was too vivid to be a dream. Leo remembered tangerines ( _the taste gods the sweet bitter taste_ ) and clipped winged birds ( _the feel the feeling skin soft fingertips callused_.) He remembered being too warm and too cold, too much. He remembered what it felt like to kiss Takumi, the feel of his mouth, the touch of his tongue, the way his body fitted against Leo’s like the answer to all of Leo’s questions.

Then a shiver overtook his body, so hard it hurt, and Leo remembered that he hadn’t been scared of the dark but what the light would bring. Rightly so. Bruises were harder to hide in the daylight and here he was, so close to being exposed and what did it take? Some rumpled sheets, a bruised mouth, Takumi’s name on the tip of his tongue as soon as he opened his eyes. Years of training, of cold practice, of self-restraint fell apart with one kiss.

The wound wasn’t the words they said about Takumi and Leo. The wound was _him_. He was the wound, the weapon and the one holding it. Leo was everything and he wanted to be nothing.

He tried to be still but the familiar locking of bones had broken. Leo wanted so badly to curl up on his bed, make himself small, close his eyes but it smelled of Takumi and all it made him feel was lonely. He had known it would. So he slid to the floor in the corner of his room, the walls dark but there was light. His father had been in the fires that burnt out candles but Takumi was in the sunlight, a fire that burned stronger than anything else in the world.

And he had left. Takumi had left him, snuck out of the room like it was something shameful, and Leo wanted it to be dark again. He had laid in the dark for years, reciting mantras until the words came out in breaths, seemingly natural. The dark he knew, the candles he could face but the light on him burnt.

And that made him angry. Takumi had kissed _him_.

Leo started to breathe when he stopped shaking. He got up and he dressed, letting the light catch on the sheets still disturbed. He wondered what it would take for the light to be strong enough to begin burning. Leo clenched his fists briefly to quench the urge to light the fire himself. Sheets, books, himself. Leo was destructive when he felt. He closed the curtains and willed himself to not feel at all.

Leo knew the vast kingdom, from the villages and towns beyond the walls to the gardens just outside and the interior castle halls he called his own. He knew it like the back of his hand and he knew the room Takumi had been placed in. He knew it as a guest room but Nohr had never had many guests – until now. It was identical to the one Hinoka and Sakura had been placed in, only lesser to the one that had been given to Ryoma, a room fit for a king.

But Leo only knew it like a mark on a map, impersonal. He knew how it had been before someone had lived in it. He didn’t know if Takumi piled his books on the desk or the bedside table. He didn’t know where he threw his clothes when he undressed for a bed, if his shoes were tucked at the door or beside the bed. But Leo knew where the candles burned the brightest – at his bedside, close but was it because he read before bed or because he couldn’t sleep without the light and hated waking without the brightness to chase away the dark monsters of his dreams? Leo knew how his sheets looked, like all that chaos in his eyes came out at night when they shut, in his brain, in his spine, in his limbs, wrecking the peace of the sheets. _There were other wars. In me._

Oboro stood outside of Takumi’s bedchamber. Her arms were folded over her chest until she spotted Leo and he found that the times she had fixed him with a glare, she had been holding back. It had been a while since a Hoshidan had treated him with such open and grotesque hostility. Her expression twisted with such ferocity now that Leo would have stopped had he not experienced worse (Keaton sniffing his own backside, the face Xander would make at the dinner table when he was trying not to laugh at his own Godsawful joke, Iago’s general pitiful existence.) “Save it. I’ve seen uglier.”

Oboro’s features straightened out a little and she sniffed, distastefully. “He’s not here.”

“You’re guarding an empty room?” Leo mused. Oboro’s face twisted again but she was reigning it in with effort, her fists clenched at her sides. “Or has he left his weapon in your care? Did he take the pet puppy he calls a retainer with him?”

“Better a loyal puppy than some wild dogs,” Oboro hissed.

“They’re rather loyal wild dogs,” Leo corrected her but he kept his voice easy like his pulse didn’t calm in guilty relief that Takumi wasn’t behind the door, like it didn’t jump at the thought of Takumi elsewhere, still running away. Like something ugly didn’t rear its head at the thought of Takumi with his retainer, the scarred muscles of Hinata’s arm easy and belonging around Takumi’s neck.

“Whatever,” Oboro huffed. “He’s not here. You can leave.”

“I can.” Leo didn’t move.

“You _should_ ,” Oboro said, more forcefully.

Leo stared at her for a long moment. He had never talked to her alone, heard far less from her than he had from Hinata (whose resemblance to a puppy wasn’t untrue and wasn’t exactly an insult.) He knew very little of her and had never asked, beyond a few offhand comments to Takumi over chess about where he had picked up his retainers. Takumi, not wrongly, replied _where did you pick up yours? Checkmate._

The look in her eyes, the unashamed hatred, reminded Leo of Takumi at the beginning. Justified but stubborn. Unwilling to learn until- Somehow, Leo doubted Oboro would appreciate an offering of a book.

But there was something else in that hatred, beyond the eyes of a vengeful Hoshidan or a protective retainer.

“You love him,” Leo said.

Oboro’s expression slackened with shock. Then she flushed and it wasn’t delicate (red, angry and embarrassed) but it was honest. When she opened her mouth, it was a gape that struggled to find words. _I can relate_ , Leo thought dryly but knew better than to say. When she could speak, it was loud with heartbreak. “You- you can’t _possibly_ understand how I feel-”

Leo knew what she was trying to say. _You can’t love him too_. “I never claimed to.”

“Don’t-” She shook her head furiously. “ _Don’t you dare_ think for a minute I’m protecting him because of something as miniscule as a _crush_.”

It was no secret, Leo worked out. Everyone knew, except Takumi himself. Of course he didn’t. Takumi only saw himself by measures, how he didn’t meet impossible expectations, how he _possibly couldn’t_ even when he did, redefining impossible with sheer force of will. He had no idea how he looked when he raised his bow, when he cut down his enemy without so much as batting an eyelash. How the wind was always kind to him, to his hair, how the sun was the kindest to his eyes. How brilliant he was across a chessboard, intelligent behind a book, familiar over a table, the only one Leo could see in a room full of people. How quick witted he was with his tongue and his sword, how he looked when sweat gathered on his forehead and he wiped it off and said _again_. How there had been so many nights where Leo would lay and fight wholly different demons at the thought of Takumi.

There was something about people like Takumi that were so at war with themselves and how they saw only the ugly in themselves because what use was the beauty of flowers growing between the cracks of broken bones?

Then Leo thought about the flowers twining around his ribcage and the hopeful bird. There was something about people like Takumi, like Leo himself.

But it was no secret because it wasn’t something that needed to hide. Of course, it wasn’t. It was two friends growing up, it was born from loyalty, from goodness. It was the sun on the prosperous and peaceful land of Hoshido and not a stray ray of light in a dark room in a desolate castle. Flushed and determined, Oboro said, “He’s my prince and I’m sworn to protect him from those who hurt him.”

“Including me?” Leo said mildly as if amused. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of what Hoshidan weddings looked like. He had, of course, never been to one.

“Especially you.”

Leo had feared Niles seeing through him but he had never stopped to consider a Hoshidan who worshipped the prince, who had the Gods on their side, as a threat in the worst kind of way. He had never thought Oboro would look at him for so long to see herself in Leo. Maybe she had only been looking at Takumi and how he shone so bright in Leo’s presence and it became impossible to ignore Leo, who had been raised on darkness.

 _Of course_. Leo didn’t have the blessings of the Gods. All he was good for was broken prayers, unspoken confessions and the sin that he was now blaming anyone and everyone else for. He would blame Takumi, he would blame the Gods but Oboro was right. Of course, it hurt to be with Leo. That was what it meant to kiss someone in the dark. You gave them something to feel shame for. And Leo had kissed Takumi, undeniably desperate and feverous. They made each other sick.

Of course, it hurt. It hurt more than anything else in the world. Takumi was the bird and Leo was caging him.

Leo answered Oboro by walking away. He didn’t see Takumi for the rest of the day.

*

Words choked him.

Some time passed. The first time they had separated out of schedules, necessities, unwillingness to find a common ground. It had been pride and it had felt restless. They had longed for violence, for blood and words with a bite. The second time it had been because of Leo, his confused body protecting him from an uncertain threat and Leo wished he had heeded the warnings.

This time it was Takumi, Takumi who kissed him, Takumi who had touched his chest and let the bird sing. But what was the use if the singing had been trapped against Takumi’s mouth, locked into another cage, Takumi along with it? What was Leo hoping, that holding the bird captive would make it love him, like some kind of terrible curse?

Leo saw Takumi. They weren’t hiding in their rooms. He saw Takumi across the hall, eating lunch with the same reserve he had shown when he first came, born out distrust. He saw Takumi training with Hinata, traditional Hoshidan martial arts, and Leo made sure to look away before he could see how their arms around each other looked like an embrace. He saw Takumi but they never spoke. Takumi wouldn’t even look at him. Spring was coming. The skies were still grey but there was sun, even if all it could bring to light was the death of winter.

It didn’t matter. Takumi was all Leo could think about, in his sight or out of it, in the light and in the dark. He would read but then the fire of the candles flickered and blew out as if to torment him some more. He broke candlesticks and read in the light of his own magic. He wondered if there was a spell to erase memories, to heal a heart and to steel a will. Leo wondered why he hadn’t thought to search for one when his father broke him. Maybe a vulnerable part of him was so used to being broken, he didn’t know how to fix himself now.

One evening, Leo made his way into the throne room. It was empty, of course it was. Leo didn’t know what he was looking for. The ghost of his father, the memory of standing as he did now, at the foot of his throne and waiting for orders to kill the soldiers he made the mistake of looking at twice. All Leo’s desires had done were hurt others. Why would Takumi be any different?

Even in the room where his father’s ghost’s presence was the strongest, Leo saw Takumi, sat on the throne as the light caught it, careless, lounging with his legs crossed, head tilting back as he laughed. Leo had come in here to remember his father, to relearn his training, to be cold once more but his father was dead and Leo had no one left to blame but himself. He closed his eyes against the assault of the sun.

“Considering playing kings and queens?”

Leo didn’t jump. Xander approached and stood at his side but Leo didn’t look at him. He snorted. “Hardly my style.”

“No,” Xander agreed and he sounded like he was smiling. “A pity though. I was ready to offer my crown.”

They would wait until the war came to an end to crown Xander and Ryoma. Over time, ideas of a joint ceremony, an openly signed treaty that surpassed times of war and into times of peace were whispered at dinner tables. Leo didn’t have any objections. For a long time, Xander had felt like a king. He was born to be.

Leo wasn’t. He opened his eyes. “I don’t long to be king, brother.”

“You wouldn’t be a bad one.”

Leo smiled wryly. “The faith you have in me touches the very core of my heart.”

In the same tone, Xander said, “Though I’m not sure all your subjects would appreciate your idea of wit.”

“There’s always a catch. I had forgotten one of the conditions of kingship involved a severe lack of sense of humour.” Leo looked at him, teasing. Things had been so busy with the war, they rarely talked outside of politics. It was ironic that they talked now, stood in front of the throne that governed them. “But I suppose that makes you the perfect man for the job.”

Xander smiled, just a little but that was enough. Then his expression was firm once more. “Leo, why did you come in here?”

“The castle is always busy now, is it not? I was looking for some privacy. The room is rather atmospheric. Good for thinking.”

“Prince Ryoma is concerned about his brother.” After a pause, Xander said, almost gently, “As am I.”

“I had no idea you shared such sentiments for Prince Takumi.”

“I’m talking about you.”

Xander turned to face him entirely and waited for Leo to look at him. Leo did and his brother’s gaze was level, steady. He had always been an unmoving figure next to their father. From Xander, Leo had learnt to act still until he felt like a statue, cold and decorative, serving a singular purpose. Xander had taught Leo how to survive.

 _Those nights_ that Leo longed for now, nights where a stronger voice than his own was behind his self-punishment, selfish for familiarity that didn’t look like Takumi, he had once endured with the wish of Camilla’s mothering care and Xander’s strength to free him. He had wished his brother would notice but he knew he had never made it easy. The war had cost them their souls but the truce had breathed life into their sculpted bodies. It was only Leo that struggled to move. He wondered now what mistake he made today that made Xander notice. Maybe there were flaws in his workmanship, cracks in white marble like veins, blood spilling artfully.

Leo looked away. “So what gave it away?”

“You’re my brother.” Xander said it like it was the answer. Simple. Takumi was too. “I remember holding you as a child. I was the one who gave you your first sword.”

“And I rejected it to choose magic.”

“Yet you use it still, with Takumi.”

Leo’s tone took an incredulous turn. “Are you here to ask me to spar with you?”

“You care for him deeply, do you not?”

Simple. But Xander didn’t play games with words, didn’t care to debate. Leo felt himself flush, despite himself. “The Hoshidans are- valuable allies.”

Leo had been young when he had been faced with his father’s wrath, unstoppable. He remembered Xander protecting him the best he could, still a teenager himself. He remembered Camilla holding his face later, staring at the bruise, then calling for a healer. He remembered being told to be careful.

And he had been. For so, so long, he had been _good_. He almost forgot that no one was more threatening to this dirty little secret of his than the family he had hid it for.

“Leo.” Xander’s voice was soft. Leo hated it. He wanted to be petty and selfish. He wanted to say it was too late to talk to him with care. What use was it, cradling something broken? _Ha_. Leo had tried. But then Xander said, “You think none of us knew just how much you sacrificed to be our father’s son?” and Leo knew he couldn’t be selfish.

Not when, “We all did.”

“For the sake of peace, yes,” Xander agreed. “Loyalty was so fragile. You couldn’t test it in an embrace unless you were prepared for the arms around your neck to strangle you.”

“ _I know_.” The words were said through gritted teeth as though he was in pain. “Do you really think I would have been a fool enough to-” He cut himself off expertly, severing the air to step forward, closer to the throne with his back to his brother but Xander knew the words that were unsaid _-lay with a soldier when we were at war?_

Behind him, Xander said, “You did what you had to because you had to, nothing more.” Leo’s breathing was a touch heavier. “It doesn’t always have to be a choice between what’s right for war and what’s happy for the soul. Not anymore. The war with Hoshido is over.”

“There will always be other wars,” Leo said, as Takumi had.

“Then make peace with yourself.”

Xander laid a hand on his shoulder and turned Leo towards him gently. Leo flinched but Xander wouldn’t hurt him. Leo was constantly caught between hard and gentle touches. He wanted to be petty and selfish. He wanted to be held, tight enough to break.

“You are my brother,” Xander said, “as you are Camilla’s, as you are Elise’s. Whatever battle you fight, we will stand by your side. You have always loved the strongest. It will not make you weak to accept the love of other’s in return.”

Leo thought of the soldiers that had killed and cried. He thought of what it took them to forgive themselves. Sometimes you couldn’t forgive yourself until you knew the ones you loved never found fault in you.

They both stared at the throne.

Leo said the words as if they choked him. _No_ , they did. “Is it foolish to hope that he- that he wouldn’t have… if he were himself?”

Xander squeezed his shoulder gently. They had never treated Leo gently but he had never treated them anything otherwise either. But now they stood in silence.

The war with Hoshido was over. Their father was dead. Leo was allowed to love again.

*

 _Family_ was easier to say now.

When you had the world on your shoulders, it wouldn’t just fall and leave you weightless one day, at one good deed. But Xander lending his strength eased some of the tension at the back of Leo’s neck. They ate lunch together sometimes, in Xander’s office, and Xander would ask for advice about things concerned with kingship. Talking to his brother like this, Leo realised that yes, he wouldn’t have been a bad king but Xander would be a great one. Leo didn’t laugh but that was okay, Xander didn’t either, not much.

It didn’t mean Leo wasn’t hurting. Takumi was still unreachable, untouchable, always on the other end of the room. Leo learnt, watching Xander and Ryoma talk hopefully about their kingdoms prospering together, that he no longer wanted this truce to end and for the Hoshidans to go home. It was too late for that. He longed for other things now. He was learning to allow himself to long for them.

One lunch he retrieved his food and had started for the door, hoping to catch Xander about their weaponry inventory when he noticed Camilla, giving him a look he couldn’t ignore. She was sat with her retainers but dismissed them with an airy wave of her hand when Leo approached. He waited for them to leave before he sat down. “Camilla.”

“Leo. It’s been a while,” she said, accusation light in a cheery tone. It was no less of a threat.

“Things have been busy,” Leo said. “But I apologise. How are you?”

They were on good terms and talked, not as often as Camilla liked, of course, but she had always been a little softer on him than Xander. Her expectations of him were no lesser but it had been disorientating. Their mothers had been vicious, crows picking at bones, and Leo had only held Camilla’s hand for as long as he was allowed to be a child. When Elise was born, the three of them had laced their fingers only to make a cradle for their youngest sister to sleep easy. Leo hadn’t minded and he knew Camilla meant well. She was a sister, mother, queen. She was the last person you wanted to underestimate, the last person you would want to get on the bad side of. She was the piece that could destroy the whole game.

Now, Camilla smiled. “I don’t want to talk about me.”

“No?” Leo questioned. “And I suppose you want to talk about me?”

“Oh, no.” Camilla laughed then nodded past Leo. He knew (he always did) if he followed her gaze he would see the young Hoshidan prince. He didn’t bother to take his eyes off her. “I want to talk about _him_.”

“Did he offend you somehow?” Leo kept his voice light, conversational. The room was full of people.

“Oh, yes,” Camilla said this time, in the exact same tone. She leant in and her hair would have swung into her soup had Leo not reached out and brushed it back with an open hand. Her gaze was no less levelled than Xander’s. “He hurt you.”

“Where did you get that idea?” Leo’s voice was just as quiet.

“Silly, Leo,” Camilla said fondly. “You’re my brother and sisters know these things.”

The smile was small but unintentional. “And Xander?”

“Don’t try to distract me from one fool to another.” She wagged a finger at him. “Now, say the word and I’ll go and have a little chat with him.”

“You’ll break the truce and start another war,” Leo mumbled, more to himself than in response.

“Hm, what was that?” Camilla gave him a curios look. “You know I can’t hear a word you say when you mumble, darling.”

Leo sat back with a sigh then shook his head. “It’s nothing. And you don’t need to have a little chat with him.”

“I could talk to Hinoka?”

Camilla truly was like a mother sometimes. Leo groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “ _No_. No chats.”

Surprisingly but not at all, Camilla’s expression brightened at that. “So I can swing at him with my axe a few times then?”

“ _Camilla_.”

“What?”

“ _No axe swinging_.”

“Aw.” Camilla sat back and regarded him with her head tilted. “You’re good at disguising heartbreak.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He was only half-joking.

Camilla raised an eyebrow at his dry tone. “Don’t get too used to it.”

Leo’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t meet her eyes when she looked at him like that, knowing and believing. They did what they had to for the war, Leo told himself as Xander told him. It had become a chant of its own yet he had never looked beyond it, at what peace would mean because he had never thought a soul like his could find it. So he preoccupied his mind with strategies, with theories, with keeping his family and his soldiers alive.

 _We’re still at war_ , Leo wanted to say. But he knew his sister. She would have just laughed, proud and lovely, because _darling, do you really think I’ll die that easy?_

“A little bird told me that there’s a little girl who owes you for ruining your books,” Camilla said, so suddenly, so absentmindedly that for a minute, Leo was truly confused. “Who still feels awfully, terribly sorry, I heard.”

 “The little girl or the little bird?” Inside Leo, his heart was beating with broken but stubborn wings.

Camilla tilted her head again, this time towards the door, simply. It was simple for her, for everyone but him. But that wasn’t what Camilla and Xander were saying. It could be simple for him too.

Leo rose from his seat but then leant in towards her to press his lips to her cheek lightly. “Thank you.”

When he leant back, he saw Camilla beaming. “You’re so cute when you’re being nice, baby brother.”

He straightened up, expression exasperated. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?” Camilla blinked innocently.

“ _Cute_ \- nice- baby brother- _any_ of it.” Leo waved a dismissive hand, half a wave, but he was fighting a smile.

Camilla blew him a kiss. “Shoo.”

Without looking back, Leo left.

He followed the sound of Elise’s voice, just as he had that evening. He heard her laughter, a sweet giggle. He half expected to find her in his room, legs dangling on his bed as she chattered to an awkwardly lovely Takumi. Instead, his room was as he left it, sheets neat, and the voices were further down the hallway.

Leo had the courtesy of knocking but heard nothing that signified the occupants heard. Elise was talking too loud, typically. Leo sighed and pushed open the door.

Elise was sat with Sakura on the floor. Sakura’s skirt was tucked under her demurely and she held a teacup carefully though she was smiling at Elise who sat less politely, legs crossed. They had made a circle of dolls between them, a set of plates and cups set in front of them. Leo was the uninvited guest to the tea party.

Though Sakura appeared to have no qualms with his younger sister, she squeaked when she saw Leo, though he was actively trying not to frown like Xander often did (unconsciously but nonetheless.) Leo sighed again and opened the door wider. Sakura put down her teacup, stood carefully and ducked out from under his arm. Leo spared the girl a glance and found he knew the back of her head more than he knew her face.

When he closed the door behind him and looked at his own little sister, Elise didn’t look impressed. He opened his mouth but she held her tiny hand up and with it, gestured to the empty spot Sakura had vacated. “Sit,” she commanded.

Leo did.

There was a good minute of her simply rearranging her dolls and then lifting a fork and knife to cut at imaginary cake. Leo rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. This was the quietest she ever was, focusing on a game. “Elise, listen-”

“Sh. Tea first.” He could have pouted if he were feeling truly childish. Elise poured some tea for him even though there was nothing in the teapot or the cup. Leo took it anyway and indulged her with a pretend sip. Only then did she ask, “Now, Mr Leo, what can I do for you?”

Camilla had been clever to phrase it like a favour, like a trade because Leo was an expert in those. But then he thought of Xander’s hand at his shoulder and Camilla’s cheek under his lips. He thought of the world he carried and how he didn’t have to do it alone. _Whatever battle you fight, we will stand by your side._

He thought of his older brother and sister, his idols, and he saw his little sister, eyes wide in question. She spoke with an air of poise, false for the sake of the game, struggling to hold the cup with her smallest finger lifted delicately.

“I need,” Leo said slowly, “your help.”

Elise didn’t expect that. She blinked then grinned, leaning in, just as Camilla had. Her hair would have gotten in the cake if it had been real. “What is it? Do you want me to make you a new headband? Or put bows in your hair? Or-”

Leo answered the question with a grimace and impolite interruption. “Never again.”

Elise sat back and pouted. “What then?”

But now Leo was here, he felt foolish. Like he was a child. Like he was _shy_. He couldn’t find the words. They still choked him.

Elise’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Lord Takumi?”

He stared at her and he couldn’t even feel threatened. Even his _little sister_ had noticed.

She shrugged at the unsaid question in his gaze, putting down her cup and saucer. “What? You both look at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

If Leo had been eating, he would have choked on his cake. “Takumi looks at me?”

Elise huffed. “That’s what I said, didn’t I? You’re all he looks at- until you look at him! And then he thinks Benny’s soup is the most riveting thing.” She rolled her eyes. She was like Leo in some ways, like them all in some ways. But they had done everything in their power to see that Elise was allowed the childhood they lost. They would gladly stay in the clouds, in the rain, in the dark if it meant Elise could live in the sunshine. “Ugh. _Boys_.”

“Don’t worry,” Leo said coolly, regaining some composure. “I’ll make sure no boy makes your life a misery. Except for me, of course.”

She glared at him. “Do you want my help or not?”

Leo reached over to ruffle Elise’s hair but she ducked so he caught her shoulder and squeezed it. When she looked at him, he saw Xander’s eyes, Camilla’s eyes, his own and then something that was entirely Elise alone. A spark that would never burn out, no matter how dark it was. A star in her own right. “Will you really, Elise?”

“Really, really,” she said happily. It was simple for her too. They had protected her and now she helped them, small but mighty.

Leo smiled and mentally tucked away a reminder to find a fancy notebook to slip under her pillow later, one with blank pages so she could draw until her heart was content. Then he sat back and let Elise cut another imaginary slice of cake, not complaining when she shoved her dolls onto his lap or scolded him for drinking his tea too fast. _No, Leo, your pinky fingers needs to be_ higher _. Higher!_ Her plans were childishly wild but she was a child, innocent and good, and Leo needed that. He needed a reminder that good had come out of this castle, the best of them in their youngest sister. Their sacrifices were worth every hurt.

And of course, if Takumi wanted to be a child about it, so would Leo. They were equals after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jokastes)   
>  [tumblr](http://www.akingdomorthis.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i've put so many words into this chapter and this fic i feel at loss for what to say now its come to an end  
> in all seriousness, this fic has been such a wonderful experience. i've been lucky to receive so much lovely feedback on my writing, made new friends and i enjoyed writing it, truly! thank you for every kudos, comment, etc and i hope the last chapter makes you as happy and satisfied as it did for me to finish it ♡  
> thank you again and as always, enjoy!!!! i hope to see you all again soon!!!  
> EDIT (13/06/16): i'm not sure if i'll ever actually....... get round to write the extra one shots so for now this fic stays as its stand alone. sorry about that ALSO SORRY ABOUT NOT FIXING TYPOS AND STUFF I'LL DO THAT SOON i'm just lazy man

* * *

_you don't need no edge to cling from / your heart is there, it's in your hands_

* * *

Leo knew the vast kingdom, from the villages and towns beyond the walls to the gardens just outside and the interior castle halls he called his own. He knew the towers, the vines that grew up them like pests, the weapon room and the training grounds. He knew the throne room, the mess hall, the hallways that seemed to go on forever, the stairs even longer, spiralling like something out of control, and every bedchamber in between. He knew Elise’s where toys littered the floor because there she was allowed to be unladylike, Camilla’s where she propped her axe against a dressing table covered in perfumes that smelled like flowers that didn’t grow in Nohr and Xander’s office, which was more of a bedroom than his own chambers were and Leo wouldn’t tell anyone that there had been times Xander had fallen asleep at his desk and Leo had draped his cape over his brother’s shoulders and thought _perhaps there are more than one way of protecting those you care for_.

Leo knew the vast kingdom, he knew it like the back of his hand but he knew the library like Takumi’s hands.

The Nohrian capital’s castle was large and dark, in short summary, and every room reflected that. The main library was no exception. A room made of parallels, it was ordered and undisturbed by anyone other than Leo. Servants had fetched books often for Xander, less often for Camilla and sweet Elise enjoyed a good story as much as the next child but they had often despaired at the intimidating size, the thousands of books with bare spines and the endless forever of rows. Leo had scoffed, brushing everyone aside to enter and had returned easily with pages of maps, tactics, plans, a catalogue of advice on woes and a storybook about a woman and her son taming and leading even the fiercest of dragons.

Like every room in the castle, the library was coloured like a fresh bruise, aging only in the yellow of the candles that lit the walls. Leo didn’t mind. The room was full, books upon books upon books, but the air was always clear and he was always alone. The descent on the staircases felt like arms in an embrace, hands meeting in a middle that led its own way, either side occupied with shelves. Leo struggled with words, with finding the right ones, but the library had always felt like _home_.

He had chosen the library because it didn’t matter if he couldn’t speak. Leo let the books talk for him.

Leo knew the library better than any other room yet there was no room like it. It wasn’t like the castle rooms. No one book was identical to another. Even if the volumes were printed the same, there would be slight difference between copies, by who had held it, who had loved it, who had cried or laughed or theorised over it. Books were just as much anyone else’s as they were their own.

Following a familiar path, Leo walked down the library stairs, taking the right though it made little difference when both staircases led to the same central walkway, interrupted only be tables of flowers, undying. Old habits. His visits to the library were a little less frequent with his time being taken up by the war (by Takumi) but he couldn’t stay away from it for so long, running out of books to read (and to give Takumi.) It was an exaggeration to say he’d ever tire of reading, of even getting close to finishing all the books in the library. He was barely budging shelves, let alone knocking them down. Knowledge didn’t fall like dominos. It was an endless climb. Leo turned towards a shelf that couldn’t be distinguished from the others on either side of it until you knew the library like Leo did.

But he had picked this shelf deliberately, not too far from the stairs and, through a gap between some books, the angle allowed him to watch the entrance. It was a position of strength and sight though Elise’s plan hadn’t cared any specifics, other than Leo leaving dinner early (and his uneaten food to her.) Most of the actions Leo acted to the last immaculate detail were self-serving. A tactical plan was easy to focus on and an objective stayed at foresight. He didn’t want to think about how fragile that foresight was.

Leo heard, as he always did, Elise’s voice before anything else. This time, her voice carried deliberately loud, announcing her arrival for Leo. If you knew her, you would know it was terrible acting. Atrocious acting, even. Leo didn’t think you would have to know her well.

He heard Takumi before he saw him. “Lady Elise,” Takumi said slowly, unable to hide his sceptical tone but it was harmless and so much had changed, “do you really want to play in a library?”

“Uh.” Elise didn’t sound convincing, her own plan not thinking that far ahead. Leo rolled his eyes. “Is that Camilla calling me? I must have… left the tap running. Bye, Lord Takumi!”

Leo heard Elise leave, the door closing with an echo, and the quiet sound of Takumi’s sigh, barely audible. Then soft laughter. It was familiar because it was fond. Leo’s heart felt heavy, his chest tight. He had missed the sound, the awkward quality of it that he didn’t think would ever go away, like Takumi couldn’t quite believe he was laughing either. The bird craned its neck, too weak to chirp.

Takumi came into view. Leo stared between books and over dust as Takumi wandered to the balcony and took hold of the banister. It was just a little too far away for the privilege of detail but Leo knew Takumi’s hands better than his own. From here, he couldn’t see the crinkle at the corner of his eyes or what worlds were in them but he knew the possibilities were infinite as he gazed along the rows of books, head tilting this way and that, overwhelmed. Leo wished he was closer so he could commit the sight to memory perfectly.

He remembered what it felt to get his first book, a gift from a father he barely remembered. There had been kindness in him once but it was between hazy memories, nothing focused until he felt it like the sting of a slap. For a long time, Leo had not been able to tell the difference between the hand that caressed his cheek and the hand that beat it. Eventually, they had to become the same one. Black and white didn’t make grey but a confusion of blues and purples and yellows. Even his mind, brilliant as it was, had been too young to understand. Even his mind now, mature and experienced and well-versed with cruelty, didn’t, not really.

But Leo remembered the joy of his first book, the feeling of clutching it to his chest because back then, he had no reason to hide happiness. He saw what he felt in himself those many years ago in Takumi now, in his posture that swung back and forth at the balcony like a child barely holding themselves back. And Leo felt it in himself again now, watching him.

“Guess it won’t harm anyone to take a look around,” Leo heard Takumi mumble to himself.

And Leo thought about how different this Takumi was. He didn’t think this could be a trap of sorts. Leo felt something akin to pride, joining fondness, joining feelings he was not yet brave enough to name. Leo reminded himself that it was brave to feel them at all.

Takumi moved and Leo wondered if there was a reason he took the stairs at his left. He walked down leisurely, taking his time to simply look, hand cautious at the bannister as he tilted his head back to gaze at the artwork on the ceiling. If Leo was closer, he was sure he would see stars reflected in Takumi’s eyes.

Unlike Leo, Takumi didn’t know the library. Like Leo, he was curious. He didn’t stop at the nearest staircase but not far past it so he was almost perpendicular to where Leo stood. All it would take for him was to turn and look hard enough so Leo moved himself back, careful footed, barely breathing. His new position was not so kind to offer him a clear view of the other prince but he could hear just fine.

Takumi became lost in the gap between the shelves but Leo heard him pause. His breathing was thoughtful. Just barely, Leo could see a hand was raised, spotting a book, but shy of touching it. Leo knew those hands. There was hesitance in them and him, caught between familiarity and strangeness. He looked like he had sat in Leo’s room with Elise, as if he knew he wasn’t meant to be there but he knew he _belonged_. Then his will steeled with a determined exhale and he turned fully towards the shelf.

A book removed from its spot, the dust blown off and the cover opened. Takumi hummed softly as he read, absentminded, the lulling sound interrupted only by the flickering of pages. He was at ease and had come a long way from the man who had refused to eat their food, had only looked at Leo with violence in his eyes.

Well, the latter could still be the case.

Takumi was putting the book back, cursing softly when the shelves were stiff and stubborn. Leo stifled a smile but couldn’t resist peeking, head pressed against the wood of the shelf. Takumi was moving, his back to Leo, his fingertips brushing over the spines of books as he passed them.

Then he stopped, as if touching the cover of a book told him something about the content. His finger moved downwards and himself with it, crouching so he could reach a book at the lowest shelf. It was too far, it should have been too far but Leo could see enthrallment in the way Takumi looked at the book, happiness that was so rare for philosophers when answers were so few. Leo wished he could ask what the question was.

Leo was only ever this thoughtless when it came to Takumi. His first step was unconscious but the ones that followed were slow, careful. Like he was moving towards an injured animal.

Takumi stilled.

Like he was hunting.

Leo stilled.

He hadn’t moved far but he was in the open, in the middle. Takumi wasn’t looking at him but he wasn’t reading the book either. Leo folded his arms across his chest and leant back on the shelf. He wondered what Takumi would give to have his bow, to turn and take Leo out like the enemy he felt like.

“I suppose,” Leo said because silence was unlike Takumi and he wanted familiarity, he wanted to say _I’ve missed you, I miss you_ but he didn’t, “you’re sad you left the _Fujin Yumi_ with your retainer. The girl, not the puppy.”

For a long moment, Leo thought Takumi wouldn’t reply but then, “Are your words supposed to be insults? They have names.”

Leo smiled. It wasn’t a kind one. “They’re not and I’m well aware. Oboro and Hinata and you’re Takumi. I’m glad we’re all getting to know each other.”

Takumi’s chin jerked against his will, indignant. “I didn’t leave the _Fujin Yumi_ with anyone. It’s not a child that needs babysitting.”

“You gave it to her to preoccupy her. Did you want to be alone with your pet so badly?” Leo spoke as if the thought had just occurred to him. It hadn’t. “No, that’s not it. You wanted to get away from her.”

Takumi rose slowly, back to Leo. He trusted Leo with that much at the very least. “You know nothing of what you speak.”

“And here I was, thinking I was so clever. Were her affections too much for you to bear? Do you think yourself undeserving of such worship? Are you a holy man, Prince Takumi?”

Another moment where Leo thought Takumi would not speak again. Perhaps provoking him had not been enough. Perhaps- “She spoke ill of you. She was only doing so because she thought you- it was her way of showing her loyalty to me, protecting my honour.”

Leo remembered calling Takumi honourable when they sparred.

“Am I dishonourable, Prince Takumi?” He asked the question as if he was teasing, as if he didn’t feel like the weight of rocks on his chest, stealing air, crushing bones, killing the life within it. The world was on Takumi’s shoulders but it didn’t take nearly as much to break a heart.

Takumi’s back was still to him, shoulders tense. The world was in the balance. “Would she had been anywhere from my side if I thought you as such?”

The question was an answer. This time, the silence was like Leo. “And what now? Do you find yourself regretting your judgement?”

“My nativity is my own fault,” Takumi said and Leo scoffed because that was just so typical of him. “I should have anticipated this.”

“A trick from a Nohrian?”

Finally, Takumi turned, looking over his shoulder at Leo. Leo was just close enough to see surprise in his eyes. Just close enough to hear the softness in his tone. “I didn’t expect a trick from a friend.”

 _Friend_. What was Leo supposed to feel? Relief that Takumi didn’t think so lowly of him? Joy that he could be considered honourable? Or pain, selfish, terrible pain at the word, that word-

Words choked him so he coughed them out. “And that’s what we are? Friends?”

Takumi had turned fully to face him and had begun to walk towards him. As he came out of the shadows of the shelves, as he came to light, Leo realised he had been a fool. It had only taken being close to Takumi for his courage to fade, for his brilliant plans to fall short. Takumi was beautiful and unobtainable and he took Leo’s breath away, choking him. This was no hunt, no help. He was chasing after something that didn’t want him, surpassing him like nothing else ever had. _My nativity is my own fault_ , Takumi said and Leo was like him, to a fault.

If he were to be cruel, Leo would have asked Takumi if he ever woke up from nightmares and reached for his retainers. Would he kiss Oboro?

All Leo knew how to be was cruel, his father’s son. “Forgive me.” He sounded faraway and lofty, his words echoing and disturbing the peace of the library. “I didn’t realise it was commonplace for you to whore yourself to anyone close enough to touch in the middle of the night.”

“Stop.” Takumi shook but his gaze was level, meeting Leo’s with that unavoidable understanding that they shared. They had hated it then loved it and now they hated it again. It was so hard to hate someone, hurt someone who was so alike to you. It only made you hurt and hate yourself. “Stop doing this. It’s unlike you. Who do you hope to hurt when you speak so brashly? Me or yourself?”

Leo sounded like himself but Takumi knew him too. Leo was calculative but there was nothing clever about this.

It was truthful to answer, “Both of us.”

“Well, it’s working.”

 _Go on_ , Leo thought, meeting Takumi’s glare with his chin lifted. _Hate me. Punish me for this. My father is dead but you’re alive and I could never have his affection and I can’t have yours._

“This feels nostalgic, does it not?” he said, out loud. “Your fists shake. You want to hurt me, don’t you?”

“ _You_ want me to hurt you,” Takumi said and he wasn’t wrong. His fists did shake but he opened them, walking towards Leo but stopping in the middle where a table stood. One hand gripped it with white knuckles. “You think I’m the same man who walked into this castle, bound by a truce? You think I don’t _know_ you?”

“Are you not the same man?”

“You sound as you once did, back before.” It wasn’t a sentence that needed finishing. Before the kiss, before they had replaced truce with truce. Before they saw each other in each other. Before when they were enemies, rivals, at opposite ends.

They stood that way now. “Is that why you won’t bait?”

“What?”

“You know I’m provoking you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Takumi was shaking his head. There was hurt in his eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt.”

It took everything Leo had to not say _don’t pity me_ , to ask, “Then _what_ do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Takumi admitted eventually. “I- I thought it was a dream.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. His arms were still folded and it was lucky. His own hands shook. “A nightmare to fit the others?”

“I said a dream, did I not?” Takumi snapped. His impatience should have been amusing, familiar. Leo wished he could smile. “Or do you intend to not listen to a word I say and wallow in your self-pity?”

“Is that not what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks?”

“I needed time to think!”

Without thinking _because wasn’t that always the case_ , Leo’s own voice raised. “Are your thoughts not sufficiently organised by now?”

“They never are around you!”

The words echoed. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, as if neither of them could believe Takumi had said that. Leo was still holding his breath. Not wanting to hope, not daring.

Takumi lifted his other hand to his hair, running through it with a harsh tug before he spoke. “What do you want to hear me admit? That I was confused? Scared?” He sounded pained, like he did that night.

That was all it took. Leo unfolded his arms and approached him slowly. Takumi was still that hurt bird and Leo wanted his hands to be gentle, to touch without inflicting pain. He didn’t want to be less than the man Takumi fought for. He wanted to protect him from himself.

Takumi continued. “You think I didn’t notice that you were scared of something in the day as I am in the night? Do you think I could forgive myself if I had ruined your nights too?”

Leo stopped, short a few steps. _You think I didn’t notice?_

Takumi was looking away. “After you had made my days…” He shook his head. Quietly, he said, “I could not bear such a burden.”

“Is that what the kiss was? A burden?” Leo’s voice was a whisper, so quiet it didn’t echo.

“It went from a dream to a nightmare when I saw what it had done to you.”

Elise had said Takumi looked at him. “And what did it do to me?”

“Take you away from me.”

Leo had wondered what Takumi dreamt about. He knew the other prince was surprisingly uneasy around shadows and he certainly didn’t appreciate the ghost stories told at camp, even the terrible ones by Silas and Mozu. But Takumi feared something everyday to war. He had lost his father, his mother, his queen, his home, so much but now, Leo joined his dreams, his nightmares.

They were weaponised. Takumi saw himself as a weapon that had cut Leo out of his life with a kiss.

Leo was disbelieving. “And you didn’t think… did you not think to _talk_ to me?”

Takumi flushed, glaring again. “Did you?”

Leo opened his mouth then closed it again. He couldn’t say that it was different for him. Takumi had terrified of losing his friend. Leo had been terrified of his heart breaking.

Words still choked him but he had never been able to keep his mouth shut around Takumi. “Did you really think I’d fault you for a delirious mistake in the middle of the night?”

Takumi stared at him. Leo shrugged. “What? Is mercy from a Nohrian so unbelievable? Oh, wait – mercy from a _friend_?”

“And that’s what we are? Friends?”

Now, Leo was stunned to silence.

Takumi didn’t say anything. Leo was forced to find words, inadequate. “You were having nightmares,” – his voice struggled to stay even – “and you did something careless in your sleep. We can pretend nothing happened.”

“That’s-” Takumi stopped, realising Leo was giving him a way out. “I don’t… understand.”

And Takumi hated that. They were philosophers. They hated not understanding. Leo swallowed. “Is that not what you want?”

“What do _you_ want?”

The question felt sudden. Leo had asked him and Takumi was throwing the question back. Trades were not limited to objects. This was a trade of words.

No one had ever asked Leo what he wanted. Not like this.

It must have showed on his face, a nerve struck. He was open and exposed, a wound that would bleed through its bandages. Takumi took a step towards him. Then another, another, another. Leo had backed himself into a corner, meeting the shelf he had leant against earlier. He hadn’t even realised he was moving back. He was not able to root himself into the ground like Takumi could.

They were close enough that Takumi had to tilt his head back, just a little. Wide eyes, open mouth. “Did you want to kiss me?”

“That’s not-”

“Is that why you let me stay in your bed for the night?”

The implication would be offensive, would make Leo look at Takumi like they often stared at each other when a line was crossed, a silent rule was breached, as if to say _is that what you think of me?_ But Takumi was pink, eyes brown, a cherry blossom tree.

“Do you think I predicted _this_?”

This close, Leo could see every slight movement, every muscle twitching, every flicker of expression. Takumi’s forehead furrowed when he frowned.  “Then why would you let me into your bed?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Leo said, sarcasm heavy but it weighed on his tone, tongue. “Maybe because I couldn’t wake you up.”

“You could have.”

“But that wouldn’t have been…” Leo trailed off pathetically.

Takumi’s voice had lowered once more, quiet. Azura had once said that Takumi had been soft spoken. “Wouldn’t have been what?”

“Right,” Leo said, finally. “I suppose. It was late and I kept you up talking. I noticed you didn’t sleep well but I didn’t know- I hadn’t known why. But it felt unjustified.”

Their breathing was so loud it echoes. When Takumi spoke, his words shook. “Is everything always so heavily moral for you?”

So did Leo’s. “Is everything always so ridiculously suspicious for you?”

“No, I-” Takumi shook his head, licking dry lips. But Leo knew, remembering how Takumi sat in his room with Elise, how he had let her lead him here, how he looked at Nohrian books with eyes so bright Leo didn’t know how he could stand to stare. You couldn’t look at the sun unless you wanted to hurt your eyes. But he knew now.

They were changed but they weren’t, they were still at contrast, stiff and fluid, moral and suspicious, but oh-so curious. They were close. Takumi’s eyes had never been clearer. “I wanted you to say it. I wanted to hear you say it.”

 _I want you_.

“You kissed me first.” It was a weak excuse. Leo felt flushed, eyelids heavy. Takumi was looking at his eyes, caught on his eyelashes and then lower, his mouth. The castle was by no means light but candles were lit, dozens of them, and they could see each other as clear as day. Takumi was all Leo could see.

“Then kiss me now.” They were confident words until Takumi blushed, unsure. Until Leo did just that, in his own time.

A trade. A kiss for a kiss. Leo reached out slowly to touch Takumi, placing his hand at the back of Takumi’s neck. His thumb felt Takumi’s pulse, fast. Takumi’s eyes fluttered close and he waited. Leo had never seen Takumi so patient.

The kiss was an awkward simple pressing of lips, unfeeling because they were too preoccupied with the intensity of action. They were thinking too much, typical of them. But it was a kiss and Takumi sighed when he opened his mouth, coaxing Leo’s lips under his own.

It was a kiss in the daylight, in his father’s castle. Behind closed eyelids, candles flickered.

It was too much to hope his body would have learnt to distinguish between friend and enemy when Takumi was neither. It was too much to hope that the kiss would be an answer that came easy, that taught his body to unwind easy. It was too much.

Takumi felt him retract his hands and go still, unresponsive, and tilted his head back to look at Leo. His gaze was searching. No, answers wouldn’t come that easy. Takumi looked for them, curious and careful. When they first began their exchanges, Leo hadn’t known Takumi to be gentle with anything but books.

But here he was. His hands moved up to Leo’s shoulders, rooting him, and he was no longer dangling from a cliff. He rubbed them lightly, trying to ease the tension in them, touching Leo like Leo had touched him in the middle of the night. Takumi needed to be comforted from his nightmares, Leo from his daydreams.

“I’m sorry- I- this isn’t-” Leo was unused to apologising, stumbling over his words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s okay.” Takumi’s voice was soft, softer than Leo had ever heard him before. “Neither do I.”

They weren’t ones to admit they didn’t know. And yet.

Leo let his head fall, weak, pressing his forehead against Takumi’s. He knew panic when it was wild and close in his room alone and faraway and unreal in an open crowd but this was something different. Neither dark nor light. Neither here nor there. This was new and terrifying yet familiar. This was an edge and Leo didn’t know if he feared or welcomed the fall. There was adrenaline in his blood.

Takumi steadied him until each was slow, shallow, real. Takumi took his breath away but he taught him to breathe again. Leo was scared but he would feel safe, with time, swinging easy at exhilarated heights.

Leo opened his eyes and waited, patient too, until Takumi opened his. Takumi smiled. “Okay?”

Leo almost nodded but that would have made them bump heads. He swallowed and then said, “Yes.” He didn’t need to be more. He didn’t need to be good. He could just _be_. Simple.

And if he could learn to breathe, he could learn to speak. The words felt like a whole new language. “Can I kiss you?”

Takumi almost nodded too. Then said, “Yes.” Simple.

No reason to flinch but plenty to shy away. This time was better, easier. The hands that had curled protectively towards his chest, cradling an imaginary book, lowered to Takumi’s waist. Even such an innocent action made Leo flush. Takumi was warm and his lips were soft. Leo learnt from three kisses alone that Takumi always made a soft sound when a kiss opened. The hands at Leo’s shoulders moved to the back of his neck and it didn’t feel a cage. It was an embrace.

Leo stopped before it got too much, too hard to breathe. They separated gently, barely. Leo watched as Takumi’s eyes fluttered open, his skin glowing, his eyes pleased, just as he had looked at the books. _You’re all he looks at_.

Leo cleared his throat awkwardly but his words were uneven for a wholly different reason. “I suppose it’s like most things… takes some practice.”

“Or a lot of practice.”

They stared at each other. Takumi’s eyes widened, his own words registering. “That wasn’t meant to sound like an insult.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “So you want me to kiss you some more?”

Takumi huffed, taking a step back to cross his arms over his chest. For once, Leo didn’t have to stop himself from thinking about kissing the pout off Takumi’s lips. “Don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

Leo smiled, turning away out of habit to hide it. Out of the corner his eye, he saw Takumi smiling too. “Of course. I’d be disappointed if you went easy on me.”

“So,” Takumi said after a moment, looking around, “was it your sister who thought of this grand scheme to lure me into the darkest corner of the castle?”

Leo snorted. _You don’t even know the half of it_ , he thought. He inclined his head and began walking. Giving his back to Takumi, Leo knew he would follow. “Elise was a little more creative than that. She was considering traps.”

“Traps,” Takumi repeated. “How does Sakura manage her?”

Leo looked over his shoulder at him with a smile that was a smirk that hadn’t lost its kindness. “How do you manage me?”

Takumi muttered something under his breath like _Gods I don’t_. After a moment, he explained, “I should have figured it out as soon as I saw the books. You know one time she used books of yours to convince me to play with her?”

Leo stopped abruptly to turn. “She did _what now_?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Takumi looked vaguely panicked. “They were good books. Lady Elise used them as tables for her teacups.”

Leo relaxed somewhat, a little at the mention of Takumi reading and enjoying them but mostly he was relieved that Elise never put actual tea in her cups. He turned back to continue leading the way and ignored the worry of Elise drawing in the books. “You too?” he asked in reference to the tea parties.

“I would have said no but she’s…”

“Stubborn?”

Takumi settled with, “Persuasive.”

Leo smiled again. He couldn’t stop smiling. It felt strange. Laughing would be stranger, he imagined.

The library was a labyrinth and most never made it further than the bookshelves running along the walls on either side of a straight middle. They had no reason to. Leo did.

And he would have liked to think Takumi did too.

A silence settled over the two of them but it was comfortable. It was the kind of silence they thought hard in before making a move on the chessboard. It was the kind of silence that they could read in. It was the kind of silence that said nothing at all and everything in the world at once. If they didn’t look at each other, it was because of something innocent but serene, cheeks pink and smiles fresh.

Further into the library, there were less lit candles and the shelves weren’t as organised. The oldest of archives were buried here, dead languages silent and forgotten histories gathering dust. Unconsciously, Takumi pressed closer to Leo. Leo let him, their hands brushing.

“You know what you said about me being suspicious?” Takumi whispered.

“Yes?”

In the dim light, Leo saw Takumi grimace. “The dark isn’t doing you any favours.”

“Calm down,” Leo said without malice. He took Takumi’s hand like it was easy. It wasn’t but then Takumi squeezed his fingers in what Leo assumed to be gratefulness. Leo knew Takumi’s hands, had committed the way they held weapons, held chess pieces, held books but knowledge was endless, infinite. Forever would not be enough for Leo to learn the ways Takumi’s hand held his own, strong enough to break bones but choosing to hold it, warm but firm and _real_. They stood at the face of a cliff, joined together, holding stronger than any storm that tried to make them fall. “It’s just a little further…”

Takumi wrinkled his nose. Leo was allowed to think _cute_ but he preferred pretending he was still choking if it meant he could sound like himself and less like Camilla. “Feel free to take offence by this but your castle feels entirely like a dark alley in the dead of night.”

“Did you just say ‘feel free to-’” Leo sighed, shaking his head. “Forget it. I have no interest in talking décor with someone who knows so little about art.”

Takumi’s tone was thoughtful, words mockingly serious. “Though it does explain why you dress the way you do.”

“What?”

“You get dressed in the dark – literally.”

Leo just looked at him incredulously. “This coming from _you_?”

Takumi shrugged. Leo felt it in the hand that held Takumi’s. “Furs are in in Hoshido.”

Leo didn’t dignify that with a response, snorting, still short of a laugh. They had stopped, reaching the spot Leo wanted to show Takumi. He reluctantly let go off Takumi’s hand to move towards the wall, the window taking up most of it but the curtains were drawn. He ran a hand over the table under it, fingers coming away with young dust. There were books littered across it, some still opened, and a closed notebook, the one that Elise had scribbled inaccurate sketches of them all in, lining the margins. _My family_ , she had scrawled in handwriting that had refused to conform to what was ladylike. Leo turned to look back at Takumi.

Takumi was watching him and his expression was unreadable. But those were, Leo thought, the books that he was most intent to finish. In the half dark, Takumi’s face was full of shadows. He looked old and young. Leo felt that way too, here, where he had spent his past, where he was now sharing his future.

“I had wanted to show you the library for a while.”

Takumi tilted his head in question. “But?”

“It had always been a place for me to go alone.” Leo’s voice was quiet even though they were in the depth of the library. They had never been more alone.

“We could have met elsewhere.” Takumi didn’t need to say that. They both knew that.

“No,” Leo said firmly. “I want you here.”

 _I want you._ And Leo was admitting what had been unsaid about them all along. _You’re like me._

Takumi walked towards him, slowly. They were still unsure of how to treat each other, broken but mending. Takumi stopped a breath away, closing the distance but not touching him, save for his warm breath when he asked softly, “May I?”

Leo nodded because he could and Takumi pressed a soft kiss to his lips, shy and happy. “Thank you.”

This was nothing to be ashamed of. They were even.

When Takumi stepped back, he hadn’t lost his smile. He looked past Leo at the covered window. “May I?” he said again.

“Yes,” Leo replied this time. He was smiling too and he didn’t turn away.

Leo watched as Takumi opened the curtains. In the dark, it was easier to hide. In the light, it was harder to look. It was evening, the sun setting, the sky a mixture of undecided colours. Blues and purples Leo was horrible friends with, flickers of orange and red he was well acquainted with. The sun was still yellow but Leo didn’t know pink before it coloured Takumi’s cheeks. Leo couldn’t look away. He didn’t have to.

The sun bathed the library in strange light, extending shadows but highlighting. Dust aired. Takumi turned to look at Leo, satisfied and smiling, and the light made him glow, the colours a spectrum in his eyes. He looked neither young nor old. He looked like himself. Takumi, prince of Hoshido. The middle brother, the genius. He looked like Leo’s enemy, Leo’s friend, like Leo. Leo’s.

“Still afraid?” Leo teased because he couldn’t help himself.

Takumi looked at Leo for a long time. “No,” he said and he sounded like he was telling the truth.

The light in the sky would go out before long but Leo wouldn’t be afraid of lighting his own candles. Takumi said he wasn’t scared but he would seek out Leo’s hand with his own and Leo could have asked if he was making excuses just to hold hands but he didn’t. He knew what it was like to be brave, to be afraid, to be trying. He led Takumi to every window to part the curtains. The moon reflected the sun’s light.

They made a game as they always did.  A competition of who could find the obscurest books, a certain phrase, a ridiculous illustration. Leo let Takumi pick what and go first because he was at an advantage at his home. Takumi blushed when Leo easily found a book about bed etiquette with graphic but disproportioned diagrams. Leo almost yelled that it wasn’t because he had learnt anything from the book. Takumi disappeared between a shelf, his laughter echoing wonderfully. It was just the two of them but there were thousands of books and they weren’t alone, not with each other.

Between the jokes, they piled Leo’s table with books that they cared to read. Takumi dug up treasures that Leo hadn’t thought to see gold in. They argued about what made a book worth reading. When Takumi threw one at him lightly, Leo didn’t flinch. He caught it and mimed a threat in return. Takumi ducked and ran, sliding down bannisters and hair flying behind him like the banners raised in patriotism. Takumi was running away a lot but Leo let him be, shaking his head but following him. Leo could always find him. He knew the library.

They weren’t old but they argued like old men over politics, debating over which histories were inaccurate, decoding languages like scholars. Takumi wrote in Leo’s notebook, a blank page without Elise’s artwork, and Leo learnt that those hands created a fast scrawl as if he feared his thoughts would pass before his hands could catch up. There was always more to learn about hands, changing, maturing. When the pages were nudged and Takumi saw the drawing in which he towered over Leo’s stick figure body, neither spoke for a long moment.

Then Takumi looked at him, wide-eyed. “Did you draw this?”

Leo stared at him and then he spluttered. He had always thought laughter would be one of those gradual things he would learn to do, something like the kisses they shared that would become easier with practice, with familiarity. But laughter held back for no one. Like his body flinched to protect itself, it laughed now, unfamiliar, out of pitch, awkward. He had heard of butterflies in one’s stomach but there was a bird in his chest. Leo laughed.

Takumi laughed with him. They laughed so hard that tears bloomed, raining on cherry blossom cheeks. Everything was pink when you laughed.

They weren’t young but Leo shared his favourite books, stories thumbed through so lovingly and Takumi repeated the motions. They weren’t young but it was innocent fun, playing as if there wasn’t a war outside. The windows were a shield but they weren’t hiding from the Gods, each one a star that the two of them made bets on, Takumi’s head on his lap as they curled at a windowsill and predicted just how many lit the sky. When one shot across the sky, Leo watched it in Takumi’s eyes and wished for things he hadn’t wished for since a child. _Peace_.

As much as they wanted to, they couldn’t stay in the library forever. When Takumi’s eyes drooped, reality felt like a blow. They were tired, Takumi more so, but Leo didn’t flinch. When he stood up, silently extending his hand, Takumi took it and let Leo pull him close. They leant on each other, equals, and left behind a home of books. They were soldiers going to war. The corridors were empty of enemies. Leo’s bedchamber wasn’t.

The room was dark when Leo nudged open the door. Takumi waited at the doorway as Leo lit candles. He had to hold his breath with each one but then he would hear Takumi’s breathing and it steadied his hand. Leo would always see faces in fire but Takumi’s eyes would always burn brighter. The last thing Leo did was open the curtains. Let the Gods bear witness.

They barely spoke, the castle too quiet. They undressed shyly. Backs to each other. They trusted each other. Leo turned to see Takumi opening his hair and it spilled like a waterfall in the moonlight. Leo wanted to touch it. He could.

Takumi turned when he felt Leo tug lightly on a strand, pulling him closer by winding it around his finger. His hair was soft.

They had kissed in Leo’s bedchamber once before, in the dark. Now the room was lit and if their kisses were trades, neither knew who made the first move. The king fell. The kiss was gentle but open, deepening, warming them. Leo didn’t burn this time.

They lied back on the bed and under the covers, they found their voices. They talked, whispers because it was late. They both had questions and answers but their bodies still fit, arms around each other. Leo didn’t look at the candle at his bedside, the only one still burning. When Leo asked Takumi how he had managed to have a deaf ear to the talk of those around them, Takumi admitted, almost sheepishly, that he had been wrapped up in his own assumptions. Leo didn’t ask when his feelings had become apparent nor did Takumi ask him. They both struggled to say the word enemy now and laughed quietly at their heavy tongues. Leo felt it on their next kiss, a kiss like the one they shared in the middle of the night but brought to light. It still burned but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like a punishment that Leo wrongly deserved. Leo wanted it no less.

When they separated, Takumi’s gaze was half-lidded, lips wet. For some reason, Leo had the self-destructive urge to ruin the moment. He popped himself up on one elbow. “Niles has been thinking we’ve been… opening more than books in our time together.”

Instantly, Takumi’s eyes were wide.

“His words, not mine,” Leo added hurriedly.

Takumi sat up a little, as if he couldn’t process shock lying back. “Did he _seriously_ -”

“Don’t look so disgusted by the thought when you’re lying in my bed,” Leo interrupted.

Takumi flushed further. “I’m not sure we should-”

“Gods, that wasn’t an invitation!” Now, Leo flushed too.

That made Takumi laugh, suddenly but weak with sleep. He lied back down and his eyes were visibly heavy. He was still smiling when they shuttered like wings.

Harmless self-destructive urges. “Not now, anyway,” Leo said, under his breath.

“You need to stop mumbling,” Takumi said sleepily. Leo thought he was safe, _alright, sister_ until Takumi opened one eye and his mouth say, “Don’t look so relieved, I still heard you.”

He could have laughed. He could have kissed him. Instead, Leo held his breath like he never realised he was. He didn’t know where to look but he found it hard to take his eyes off Takumi, hair spread out on the pillow like the halo of an angel neither black nor white. Finally, Takumi smiled and said, softly, shyly, “I would not object.”

He could have laughed. He could have kissed him. Instead, Leo cleared his throat. “That’s a start.”

Takumi shoved him gently, laughing too. Leo didn’t flinch. He wasn’t lying. It was a start.

They didn’t talk about Takumi’s nightmares or Leo’s fears, they didn’t need to. A simple action said a million words. They were lying together, two boys learning how to not be afraid. And when Takumi sheepishly asked if Leo could leave the candle burning, still fearing of the dark and its creatures, Leo didn’t object. It was brave enough to sleep at all. Leo lied down next to the other boy. _Man_ , Leo corrected himself. Boys love boys, men love men.

The candle would burn until the sun rose. And there was no harm in it, two men loving each other. It couldn’t hurt Leo in the bed it had for so long done nothing but. The bird would leave the protection of Leo’s ribcage but Takumi’s embrace shielded it. Birds were not meant to be rooted anyway. Leo focused on the sound of Takumi’s breathing, even despite his fears, and he closed his eyes.

Leo was touching fingertips with sleep’s hand when he heard Takumi’s voice. “Leo?”

He hummed, wondering if he was already dreaming. His name sounded lovely in Takumi’s voice. He didn’t want this to be a dream. Leo had never been one to wish sleep away but he did now, willing himself to awaken.

“Can I ask…” Takumi’s voice trailed off and Leo forced his eyes open. Takumi was looking at him and Leo lifted a leisurely hand for the simple pleasure of brushing stray strands from his eyes to see the question in them.

“Anything,” Leo said in answer. Takumi bit his lip and Leo almost touched it with his thumb, his own mouth. From the hazy memories of his tired mind, he remembered, “I owe you a truth anyway.”

Takumi’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning a little. “You owe me nothing.”

“Okay.” Leo had never been one to agree simply but for Takumi, for this, he did. “Then ask.”

“What are we?”

Leo had asked this question. He had asked Takumi. He had asked himself, over and over. He had read book after book in search for an answer, for a single word but he got a library full. _Enemies, rivals, friends, intelligent, deadly and brave_. They were philosopher kings. They were the sun and the moon, the day, the dark. They were the universe, a new age. They were the books they read, the games they played, the fights they fought and they were winning. They were learning to be unashamed.

Leo kissed the bite, softening it with a kiss. The bird in Leo’s chest sang and sang and sang as he smiled in answer against Takumi’s mouth.

*

They were free.


End file.
